Adaptation
by the morrighan
Summary: Adjustments are made following the escape from the darker Atlantis.
1. Chapter 1

Adaptation

Magenta.

The purplish-red color filled John Sheppard's field of vision. His bleary eyes couldn't focus at first, could only make out the bright, vivid color. He blinked. Bringing into focus the tiny gray and blue flowers scattered on the dark pink material in his hand. Sprawled on top of his bed he struggled to wakefulness. Relaxed his grip on the satin material clutched between his fingers.

He lowered his arm, realizing with a start he was holding a pair of Moira's abandoned panties. He grinned. Wondered how long they had been lost in his bed. Recalled she had lacked underwear of any kind last night.

The rest of the evening flooded into memory. The sex. The argument. Over that alternate reality. That alternate Atlantis which they had escaped. Over that alternate John Sheppard. That dark version of himself whom Moira had comforted over the loss of that reality's Moira. That Sheppard who had killed that Moira out of compassion. But John wondered. Doubted. That Sheppard whom Moira had comforted with sex. To buy him time to get back to rescue her.

John sighed. He was jealous of himself, of that man. That version. The same. Yet not.

Cursing over the enigma and headache of it all he flung the panties onto the bed. Moved to the shower. Hot water pounded him. Obliterated all thoughts. All emotions. But his stomach clenched at the memory of sending Moira away. Out of his room. Needing time to think. To process the whole alternate universe thing. The darker version of himself. The fact of what Moira had done. Couldn't get his head around it. Knew if he couldn't get past it his relationship with her was finished.

He stood in front of the dresser. Staring down at his neatly folded shirts. The black too reminiscent of that other colonel. Finally chose a navy blue to go with his blue BDU pants. He ran a hand through his hair. Along his clean-shaven jaw, chin. Did not want to resemble that colonel in any possible way. Thinking not only of Moira but of himself.

He made the bed. Slow, careful motions as his back ached. Still sore from the Wraith attack that had left three long, vicious scratches. He straightened the disordered blankets. He had gotten little sleep last night. Tossing and turning in a miasma of emotions. A tumult of anger and denial. Of sorrow and love. He looked at the magenta panties. The material so bright. Almost taunting him with remembered pleasure, passion. He snatched them. Shoved them into the pocket of his pants. A glint of a smile stole across his face, was gone. He checked his watch. Just enough time to grab a cup of coffee before the debrief.

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Moira O'Meara felt miserable. She stared at herself in the mirror. Did not like what she saw. Guilt and misery stared back at her. Unable to sleep she had tossed and turned all night. Unable to decide what to do. If John had broken up with her or not. She wasn't sure. Couldn't blame him if he had. Couldn't bear it if he had. She found herself unable to explain the sympathy she had had for that alternate John, the one wracked by guilt and grief. Knowing exactly what he had been enduring. It was still John, after all, so how could she not reach out to him, to comfort him.

Felt a flare of anger at her John for not seeing that. Understanding that.

She combed her long brown hair. Each stroke a soothing motion. Not as soothing as John's fingers running through it. She shoved the thought away. She gathered her long tresses and trapped them in a ponytail. Smoothed down her dark green t-shirt. The khaki pants that John enjoyed on her so much. The way they hugged her curves, her rear. She smirked. A knock on the door made her rush to it, wave it open. "Oh. Evan."

Evan Lorne smiled at her obvious disappointment. "Sorry." But his smile faded seeing more. "Moira? Are you okay?"

"I...I had trouble sleeping, is all."

"Oh. Well, I guess that's understandable. After going to a parallel reality and all. Weir wants you at the debrief this morning. We have time to grab some breakfast first. Okay?" His blue eyes evinced sympathy. Curiosity.

Moira evaded them both, smiled. "Okay. Give me a second." She wondered if John would be there, in the cafeteria. Knew he would be at the debrief. Didn't want to face him. Couldn't wait to see him. She sighed, heart racing. Darted back to grab a file. Then followed Evan down the hallways.

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John stood. Sipped the hot liquid. It burned its way down his throat, into his stomach. It cleared his mind. Woke him to a fully alert status. He glanced round the cafeteria. At the tables crowded with scientists and soldiers. All talking, laughing, enjoying the morning. He did not see Moira among them. Felt annoyance and relief.

"John? You almost missed breakfast," Rodney McKay noted, empty tray in hand. "I highly recommend the pancakes this morning. They are excellent, with a side of bacon or sausages."

"Not hungry." He gulped the last of the coffee.

"What? Since when? John? Are you okay?" Rodney's gaze flitted over his friend. His concern grated.

"Fine. Let's get this over with." He stalked out of the cafeteria. Rodney followed, puzzled.

"Okay. We'll be early, though. Um, John...what exactly happened to you? There, I mean. In that alternate reality?"

John ignored him. Deliberately taking the long way round. Avoiding any chance of running into Moira yet. Knew he was being cowardly but didn't care. Did not want to face any emotional exchanges just yet.

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Moira followed Evan into the cafeteria. Her heart was pounding and she chided herself. Nevertheless she glanced round, furtive looks in quest of one subject. But John was not there. She selected a single pancake. Ate sparingly. Stomach twisting in worry, in fear, in anger. She sighed, forcing the emotions down, down. "What?" she asked, as Evan watched her. Eating his own breakfast with a healthy appetite.

"You should eat more than that, Moira. You don't look so good," he chided.

She frowned. "Thanks, Evan. Thanks a lot."

"I'm serious, Moira. Are you sure you're okay? What happened to you in that alternate–"

"I'm fine, Evan!" She calmed her voice. His concern was cloying. "Just not hungry. I had a rough night, is all. And no, I don't want to talk about it, about any of it. Okay? Not yet." She forestalled more questions, raised a hand.

"Okay," he relented. "But when you do I'm here, Moira."

She smiled. Genuine this time. "Thank you, Evan. You're a good friend."

"Then eat another pancake, damn it," he teased, sliding one onto her plate. "And I'll stop nagging. And then we'll go to the debrief."

*********************************************************************

John sat in the conference room. Impatient. Drumming his fingers on the tabletop in a continual rhythm. He glanced at Rodney as he fiddled with a data screen. Kept looking at him but said nothing. Questions all too evident. John didn't say a word. Waited. He watched as the others finally filed into the room. Elizabeth Weir quirked a brow, surprised to see him there early for a change. She took her place at the head of the table. Carson Beckett looked concerned. His blue eyes studying John like a specimen under a microscope. Evan had a worried expression on his face. He glanced at John with suspicion. Moira followed on his heels.

John straightened in his seat. Eyes locked on her. The ubiquitous ponytail. The dark green shirt smooth over her breasts. The khaki pants hugging her rear in the way he enjoyed. Found very distracting. Her lack of sleep evident on her pale face. Weary brown eyes. Also a misery as she briefly met his gaze, looked at the folder in her hands as she sat next to Evan.

Moira noted John's weariness. Stillness. The lack of his usual black t-shirt. The wariness in his brilliant green eyes. She viewed her hands, folded primly on her folder. Resisting the urge to clutch the edges of it like a lifesaver to keep her from drowning in an emotional whirlpool. Tides of worry and anger and love pulling her this way and that. She bit her lower lip. Before she could emit that small, soft sound John found so arousing she freed her lip, softly sighed.

"I don't know where to begin," Elizabeth admitted. Looking from John to Moira and back again.

"I do." Disappointed at the lack of that small, soft sound from Moira's lips he slipped a hand into the pocket of his pants to finger the silky panties. Stroking the satin. Oddly calmer now. "I want that particular quadrant sealed off from any further exploration indefinitely. Rodney, you need to scan that ocean floor. Determine if that anomaly is still there. Still active. Or if anything else can trigger it. I don't want any ships in that area. Is that understood?"

"Okay," Rodney agreed, curious at his friend's stern tone. "But what exactly am I supposed to find there?"

"The anomaly," John supplied.

"Well, duh, John! Obviously! But what exactly is the–" Rodney snapped, shaking his head.

"The anomaly," he repeated. "You would know the specifics far better than I do. The technical readouts of it both coming and going. It's all recorded in the Jumper's sensors. It's got the full diagnostics. A series of mathematical equations."

"Oh. Right. Good." Rodney exchanged a glance with Elizabeth. She shrugged. "But what exactly was it? I mean apart from the energy signatures what am I–"

"Lights."

"Lights? What is that supposed to mean?" Rodney snapped. "I need more information!"

"Lights." All eyes moved to Moira as she spoke. "What Colonel Sheppard means is the anomaly displayed lights. Like an aurora borealis underwater. Waves of lights flickering, possibly in a discernible pattern or wavelength, I'm not sure."

"An electrical discharge? Of course! That makes sense. A fissure of some kind in the space time continuum. It should have a distinctive energy signature as I postulated and my guess is it can only be triggered by a very specific power fluctuation or a set of equations based upon the energy output of the initial..." He snapped his fingers in rapid succession. "Like a shielded Jumper, right? Yes! Except the Jumper's inertial dampeners would prevent the outpouring of any excess energy, restrict it to just the ship's contours, not fluctuate outside of those particular parameters."

"It was extended," John stated. Albeit reluctantly. All eyes swung back to him. "The shield," he clarified.

"It was? Well, that would do it. Theoretically, of course. Creating a wave of power that impacted the anomaly and triggered a burst of dimensional...why were you extending the shield?"

"And why were you underwater in the first place?" Elizabeth asked.

John almost blushed. Almost. Hesitated as he scrambled for a lie. Could not tell the truth. That he had surprised Moira with a date. A picnic under the waves. Sex on the ocean floor.

"That was my fault," Moira volunteered, seeing his dilemma. "I wanted to explore the ocean depths. Look for your whales, Rodney."

"My...ugh! Don't remind me," he complained.

"They are a species of primitive whales, as far as I can determine. A prehistoric species. In fact the sea life is very diverse, ranging from prehistoric to modern specimens of amphibians, fish, and even mammals like your whales. The whole biosphere of this planet is quite diverse," she rambled, on surer ground now and unable to stop until John intervened.

"I didn't bother to log the trip because I thought it wouldn't take more than an hour. Maybe two at the most if Doctor O'Meara started rambling," he added. He briefly smiled. She smiled in return. The strange tension between them easing for a moment.

"I want to hear about this other Atlantis. What was it like?" Elizabeth asked.

The brief levity disintegrated under the question. Smiles gone.

"Dark," Moira answered. Eyes on her folder now.

"Dark? Come on! There must be have been more! An alternate Atlantis! With the same people, right?" Rodney enthused. "Just alternate versions! Endless possibilities of differences and similarities depending upon the time line and the history and the permutations of–"

"Very dark," Moira clarified.

"What Doctor O'Meara means is that it was a city at war," John explained. "Constant war. A fully militarized Atlantis with most of the civilians gone. They were at war with the Wraith. The New Wraith. Improved with the ATA gene. Even they didn't know who it had worked, but it had. With devastating consequences." John glanced at Moira, then at his hands.

"You mean the, the breeding program?" Carson exclaimed. "The harvest? Worked in that reality? Oh my God..." He looked at Moira.

"Yes," John confirmed. His tone cut off any questions. "We need to prevent that from happening here. At all costs." He looked at Moira. Winced at the words as she flinched. "I...I mean...I didn't mean...I..." he stammered.

"Colonel Sheppard means that women with the ATA gene are particular targets," Moira answered, overcoming the horror of her alternate self's fate. "They had been evacuated to Earth in that reality. But too late...to prevent the, the harvest." Moira felt a shiver. Glanced gratefully at Evan as he touched her hand a moment. A comforting gesture.

"So you're suggesting we send all of our female ATA gene carriers to Earth?" Elizabeth asked.

"No! No," John said, voice calmer as he stroked the panties in his pocket. "Doctor O'Meara means we need to exercise caution, is all. Being aware of the possibility should prevent it. We can be extra diligent for any tech that scans for the ATA gene. We'll compile a list of the women who have the gene. But there are not many."

"It can't be a threat now, right? I mean, in our reality we prevented that," Carson insisted, looking from one to the other. "The harvest never occurred. Different time line, right, Rodney?"

"Huh?" Rodney was staring at John, then at Moira. "Yes, yes, different outcome. Different history. Parallel but not the same."

"The most important thing is to monitor that anomaly," John redirected the conversation. "If we can trigger it so can they, now that they are aware of it. And trust me, we don't want them here. Any of them."

"Why? I mean, why would they come here in the first place?" Elizabeth asked. "For aid? Support? Weapons? John? Why?"

John couldn't say it. But he knew. Knew exactly why that colonel would have that Rodney find a way to open the anomaly. John looked at the reason. Moira fidgeted, feeling his gaze on her. She was prying at the corner of her folder. John met Elizabeth's gaze. "Yeah...I mean, maybe all of those." He looked at Moira. She met his gaze, the question on her lips. He shook his head. An almost imperceptible motion.

"But they're us, right?" Carson persisted. "Atlantis? Other versions of us. Like Rodney said. Parallel versions of us, although I can't imagine another McKay in any universe."

"No!" John's abrupt tone cut off the burst of laughter. "They are not us. Never think that for a moment," he warned.

"Well, of course they are us, John. Not us, but versions of us," Rodney insisted. "Of course there will be differences but essentially we would be the same and–"

"No!" John stood. "They are not the same! Not even close, god dammit and never think that! You have no idea, none!"

"No, we don't," Elizabeth agreed. Exchanging glances with Rodney and Carson. "Why don't you tell us, John. Help us to understand. All you've said is that it was a darker version of Atlantis. A city at war. But the people were the same, essentially. They–"

"Parallel to us," Moira said before John could protest yet again. "Similar to us in many ways, yes. But different too. Because of what they had endured. What they endure every day in that reality. Struggling."

John met her gaze. "No. Not at all, doctor. You even said so yourself. So what is this? Ah. Trying to assuage any lingering guilt, are we?"

Moira frowned at him. "No, colonel. You agreed they were similar as well. So what is this? Oh. Trying to pretend otherwise?"

They stared at each other. Locked in a silent challenge. Mutual misery.

Elizabeth stood. "At any rate our main concern is the anomaly, since you two are back here now," she said, trying to defuse the odd tension between them. "But what happened there? Obviously something did. John? Moira?"

John looked at her. "Nothing. They wanted us to stay. We refused. They insisted. We had to escape. End of story."

"John! There's more to it than that! What happened there? What–"

"Nothing. I said nothing," John repeated.

Elizabeth sighed. "Moira?"

Moira glanced at John. At Rodney who appeared confused. At Carson who appeared troubled. At Evan who appeared worried. Finally to Elizabeth who appeared sympathetic but also irritated. "Nothing. Nothing at all happened."


	2. Chapter 2

Adaptation2

John found himself being herded into the infirmary by an adamant Carson. After the debrief everyone had separated. Silent. Wrapped in their own thoughts. John had tried to head for the Jumper bay but Carson had headed him off and steered him to the medical center.

"I don't care what you say, John, obviously your back is bothering you and those scratches could be infected for all that I know! As you haven't exactly been forthcoming in what went on in that other Atlantis I can only assume you sustained some injury so get a move on!"

John sighed. "I told you! I'm fine. My back is sore but that's all! I didn't sleep very well last night, all right? Now lay off, doc!"

Carson guided him to a bed, unperturbed. "Sit. Let me take a look at your back to be sure." He waited. John sat on the bed. But didn't move. Stared back at him. Glowering. Carson folded his arms across his chest. Unintimidated. "I can stand here all day, colonel. The question is can you afford to sit here all day, because you're not moving an inch until I see for myself how your back is faring. Well?"

John swore. He yanked off his shirt. Winced at the pain skittering along the deep gashes marring his back. "Happy now?" he snapped. Snarled.

"Oh, I'm ecstatic," Carson dryly observed. Shook his head. "Turn."

John grimaced as the doctor poked and prodded. Moira's touch had been gentler. Her fingers massaging his sore muscles. Her hair tickling against his skin. Her lips teasingly running along his shoulder. He shook the memories aside. "What?"

"I said the scars are healing fine. I see no signs of infection but there will be some tightness. Some stiffness as the muscles heal and the skin realigns. Put your shirt on, colonel. Other than that I see no cause for alarm. You need to take it easy, John. I can give you some pills for the pain, and to help you sleep."

John pulled on his navy blue t-shirt. Ran a hand through his mussed hair. "I am. Taking it easy, that is. Now."

"Are you? Your muscles are strained, sore. No doubt from your escape from that alternate reality, yes? You need to avoid any strenuous activity. Any vigorous physical exertions."

John scowled. "Not really a problem any more, doc," he grumbled. Looked up to see Carson staring at him. "Pills?"

"Here." Carson thrust a bottle into his hand. "John, what happened? To you. To Moira. Don't tell me, Moira was seeing Rodney instead of you?"

John smiled, but it faded. "No. She...she wasn't seeing anyone." He glanced round. The infirmary was deserted. Quiet. "She was...she was dead, Carson. Their Moira, I mean. And Lorne too. They never escaped the Wraith queen's genetic experimentation. She died from the torture...in...in his arms." John's words spilled out of him, needing release. "In his arms after..." He couldn't say it. Wouldn't say it. How that alternate colonel had killed her. That would remain between Moira and himself. As much as he wanted to believe he wasn't capable of that, as much as she believed he wasn't still he wondered. A dark corner of his mind pondered it. "Anyway, it threw me. And her. Moira, I mean. Their version of me wasn't too nice. But Moira said he didn't hurt her. But he wanted to keep her there. Keep her for himself, another chance, another Moira. But she didn't belong there, Carson! And the worst part, the worst part is she, she wanted to stay. Well, part of her did. Because of what he had gone through. Because she felt an affinity with him that I can't for the life of me even begin to understand. It was me, but it wasn't me, you know! He killed her, for God's sake! How could she even feel compassion for him, feel the need to, to comfort him, to, to..." His words trailed off into uncomfortable silence.

Carson was staring, horrified. All mirth gone. "She...she died. Our Moira died...in your arms."

John met his gaze, saw the sorrow, the sympathy. "No. She died. In his. Not our Moira. Not mine. Not..." He looked at his hands.

"Not yours? John...you didn't...John...no. No! Don't be such a prat!"

"What?" John's gaze shot up at the angry tone. All sympathy gone from Carson's blue eyes.

"You idiot! Are you that blind, man, that you cannot see? Whatever Moira did in that other reality was for you! Don't you see that? Everything she did was for you, John! You! If it had been any other man do you really think she would be so sympathetic, so torn by leaving, so upset at what he had endured? Because it was you, John! A version of you, and one that you may not like, perhaps she didn't even like, but still you! Everything she did, whatever she did, was out of love for you, you stupid man! And if you're telling me you are going to throw that all away then you are a fool!"

"Carson! You don't understand!" John argued. Embarrassed. Upset. Angry.

"No, I don't, you have the right of that! How could you ever blame her when she would do anything for you? Even for this darker version of you? Don't you see?"

John stood. "No. No, I don't. Forget I said anything, all right? Damn it, Carson, you don't–"

"Oh, I do, John. Understand. What a complete and utter prat you are being over this! Don't you break her heart over this, do you hear me? Don't you dare! Now get out of my infirmary and think about this! Really think about what Moira endured, for your sake, John! Yours!"

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Moira finished her lunch. Not tasting the food as her thoughts flitted. Emotions fluttered. Hours had passed. She had tried to work. Couldn't concentrate. The city was closing in on her. Cloying. Restless she stood, headed for the Jumper bay. Had to get away, get out as the walls were pressing on her. The memories shadowing her every thought, every feeling.

She neared the battered Jumper. Technicians were swarming over it. Pieces lay scattered on the ground. John and Rodney were on the ramp, examining the crystals as panels were flung wide. Avoiding them she spotted Evan standing near a drive pod. A welder's torch sparking in his hand. She waited until he was done. Neared. "Evan?"

He lifted the protective visor. Smiled. Removed the helmet and set the torch aside. "Moira."

"I need to steal you for a few hours. Okay?"

"Oh? Why?" Evan asked. He pulled off the protective gloves. Moved towards her as she stood awkwardly. Obviously uncomfortable. He sighed. "Let me guess. Vampire rabbits again?" he asked, both to lighten her mood and give her the excuse she so desperately needed.

"Yes, yes!" she agreed, grateful. "Bingo! Evan, can you–"

"Bingo?" he wondered.

"–accompany me to the mainland to look for more examples of an anomalous lagomorph exhibiting extreme dental adaptations?" she asked, words flowing rapidly. "I need to get out of the city for, for awhile and you could fly me to the mainland, right? Right?" She glanced at John and Rodney. John was watching her, expression unreadable. She looked back to Evan. "And, and a field study would help me get back to normal, okay? Evan, you don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not, Moira," he soothed. "I..." He glanced at John. "Sir?"

John nodded. "Go. Take Jumper three. Just get back well before dark, major."

"Yes, sir." He met Moira's anxious gaze. "We have a go. Just dial down the scientific mumbo-jumbo, will you?"

She smiled, relieved. "I'll try, but I can't promise anything."

After an hour of crouching, watching, following rabbits across several fields Moira straightened. Sighed. "Nothing. At least not the rabbits we're looking for. Let's walk awhile, Evan."

"Sounds good to me, Moira." He stretched his back. Strolled next to her. The sun was beginning to set, a glorious expanse of orange and cherry as it began its dive into the roiling waters of the ocean. The city gleamed purple in the streams of color streaking towards it. "So, you're thinking that two are not just an anomaly. Perhaps indicative of a breeding population? And the fangs are an adaptation to some kind of grass out here? Moira?" He saw her flinch.

"Yes, a, a breeding..." she paused, voice catching on the word. "A breeding population which would pass on the trait to the, the offspring..." She hesitated. "Sorry. I can't believe we, we were gone three whole days. In that other Atlantis."

"Major Lorne?" John's voice sounded in Evan's ear.

Evan sighed. Gestured for Moira to stop. He tapped his earpiece. "Sir, copy, sir."

"How's your ETA?"

"We'll be heading back in twenty, sir. Plenty of time before dark."

"Very good, major. Just checking. Happy hunting."

"Yes, sir. Lorne out." He tapped the earpiece off. Caught up to Moira who had resumed wandering across another field. "Hey, hold on."

"Sorry. Who was that?"

"Seriously? Lover boy, checking in on you," Evan remarked. "But don't tell him I said that or he will shoot me for sure. He seems awfully protective of you, Moira. What happened to you? Did something happen to you in that parallel reality? Hey, he didn't bring back the wrong Moira, did he?" he asked, but his amusement faltered as she turned to him.

"No. That wasn't possible." Moira studied the grasses swaying around them. "She, she was dead, Evan. So were you. Him...I mean, their Evan. They never escaped the Wraith queen. They died there. After, after months of torture and experimentation to implement the breeding program. The ATA gene." She hugged herself as a chill swept through her. "It was horrible, Evan! Their Atlantis was all military! McKay was there, thank goodness, and essentially the same. He helped us get back here. And, and Beckett was, was a complete opposite of our Carson! Scarily so. Blamed me, hated me for that, that breeding program. Those Wraith were unstoppable. Their Atlantis was at war. All of the time. And, and John...John wasn't John...not really. Not the one we know but a different...but he still was John Sheppard! And John won't see that! He won't see that it was him, and that one needed me more than he ever will...but I guess it doesn't matter now anyway so, so..." She blinked back tears. Forced the emotions aside. "I'm sorry! I...I had to tell someone. The truth. Of that horrible Atlantis. Evan?"

Evan was staring at her. Aghast. Appalled. "You...you died? I died? We never escaped? You..." His consternation was palpable.

Moira moved to him, touched his arm. "She died. He died. Not me. Not you. We escaped, Evan. We were stronger. We survived."

"Thank goodness," he murmured. "Wow. I...I never imagined any of...that explains the hugs."

"The hugs? Oh, yes. Sorry. When I saw you here...I..."

He hugged her suddenly. "Moira! It's all right. I can't even imagine what you endured in that place! An Atlantis like that...and everyone so different, except for McKay. And your other self dead...and me...and...you say Colonel Sheppard was there? In charge, but different too?"

Moira nodded. Pulled back to see his troubled blue eyes. "Yes. Different. But the same. Not the same. It's so complicated, Evan!"

"And that's why you had to escape, isn't it?" he guessed. "Because that Sheppard wanted you to stay. Of course he did. And ours, ours wouldn't allow that, right? Moira? What am I missing here?"

"Nothing." She colored, began to walk again. "You've got it, Evan. That, that Sheppard wanted me to stay. To replace his version of me. But I couldn't. I should have, but I–"

"Should have? Hell no, Moira!" He caught her arm, stopping her. "Why on earth would you want to stay there? I mean I'm sure you felt sympathy for him, since he was Sheppard and all, but not yours, Moira. You belong here. With us. With our Sheppard. Right? Moira?"

She nodded. "Yes...I know. I mean I can't help but feel guilty, but I know." She sighed. "I'm just glad it's over, is all."

"Is it? Over? Did something else happen? Moira...don't tell me that Colonel Sheppard is blaming you for that. Are you kidding me? Are you–"

"No! There's more, but I can't tell you. And, and John...it's been as difficult for him, Evan. To see this dark version of yourself. You, but not you. So don't say anything, please! Evan!"

"All right. I guess." Reluctance.

"Thank you. Let's get back. We can do a full survey later." She began to stride the other way, towards where the Jumper was parked. Finding herself alone she turned. "Evan? I'm fine, really. You were right, I needed to talk about it. But I'm fine now. Please, Evan."

"Sorry." He moved to her, shaking his head. "That was quite a bombshell, Moira. No wonder neither of you wanted to discuss that in the debrief. Let's go. It's getting dark."

Moira took his arm. "Yes. And we don't want lover boy calling, do we?" she tried to lighten his mood, but found her own souring.

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John was pacing. Couldn't help it. Couldn't stop himself. He raised his hand yet again to his earpiece, lowered it. Ignored Rodney's exasperated expression at being abandoned yet again in the middle of the repairs. Finally a ship lowered into the bay. Smoothly landed. John moved to it as the hatch opened. The ramp lowering. Folded his arms across his chest. Irritated. His gaze narrowed. Brows knitted together. He heard Rodney swear, drop a tool. Heard him emerge from the damaged ship and head towards him. Heard Carson walking over as well, calling him.

Ignored it all as Evan stepped down the ramp.

Evan paused, resumed. Seeing his superior's stern expression. Disapproval. Anger. The revelations Moira had dropped on him still spinning in his mind. "Sir?"

"Before nightfall, major," John chastised. Voice clipped. "Not at nightfall. Wasn't I clear?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

The startled sympathy in Evan's eyes gave John a start. The tightness in his chest eased as he heard Moira, then saw her emerge from the darkness of the ship.

"It wasn't his fault," Moira argued. She stepped quickly after Evan. "We were heading back but I spotted what looked like a pygmy version of _Megantereon cultridens _which is impossible because firstly they weren't small cats but the size of leopards and secondly because the _Megantereons _went extinct about ten thousand years ago. Which either means there are more megafauna in this galaxy than we previously thought apart from that found on Pleistocene Park, or that there is an indigenous species that evolved independently of the...the...the..." Moira's rush of words, of rising enthusiasm faltered, withered under all of the men. All of them staring at her with naked emotion on their faces. All but Rodney.

She glanced briefly at John. Usually he would stop her rambling words with an interruption. Sometimes with a passionate kiss. But now he seemed indifferent. Staring at her, expression unreadable. Except for the chagrin, the discomfort. She felt the loss of his support, his interest and she swallowed back a wave of despair. Of denial. "Rodney?" she asked.

"What? You tell me, Moira. I have no idea why they, um...John?" Rodney eyed the men, as puzzled as she was.

"You died. Moira, you died...in his arms. I can't even imagine..." Carson stuttered. A glimmer of tears in his blue eyes.

"You died in his arms?" Evan asked. He glanced at John in surprise. Sympathy.

"You died? In the parallel reality you died? You?" Rodney asked, surprised. "Why didn't anyone tell me that?" he demanded, hating to be out of the loop.

Moira looked from their disbelief, their sorrow to John's uncomfortable expression. Felt she was drowning under it, the darkness swallowing her yet again. She felt tears but forced them back, said softly. "Not me. Her."

"A version of you, then, but still...how?" Rodney asked, glancing at John.

"The Wraith experiments," Carson answered. "Evan too."

"Lorne too?" Rodney asked, glancing at the major.

"Not him. Not me," she tried to sideline, to create a distance between their fates and hers. Whispers of the memory in her mind. That city at war. That dark colonel. That tormented version of John. She forced the images out of her mind.

John could see the struggle, the sorrow in her brown eyes. It was like a beacon to him and he started to move to her. Unable to resist. Despite whatever was happening or not happening between them now her misery drew him like a magnet.

"All right," Moira decided, eying each one. "that's enough! It wasn't me! It wasn't Evan! Look, all of you, meet me in the bio lab in say, ten minutes. Okay? Ten minutes and I'll meet you there so we can, um, debrief. Okay? Please."

"The bio lab? Why?" asked Carson.

"Just meet me there, all of you, please. John?" she asked, turning as he reached her. Stood near her, green eyes wandering over her before meeting her tense gaze.

"You heard Moira. The bio lab. In ten," he enforced.

As the rest departed, muttering among themselves Moira touched John's arm. An almost timid gesture. "You too, John. Please."

"Moira, I...I'm sorry. It just sort of, um, leaked out...I didn't mean to–"

"It's all right, John. It happened to me too. Clearly we need to discuss this. All of us, I mean, I mean, I..."

"Moira, look, um, we...that is...I..." he began awkwardly, but she interrupted.

"No. Not now, John. Go. I'll be right behind you. That will be a nice change."

He smiled briefly. "Not so nice for me, though. All right, doctor, I'm going." He headed away from her, glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, O'Meara! Stop eying my ass."

She briefly smiled. "Sorry, Sheppard. Get it moving then."

"As ordered, Moira," he called over his shoulder. Glanced at her yet again but she was heading in the other direction. All mirth gone. He stopped. Stared after her. A woman crossed into his view and he watched her. Recognized her. They had had a brief fling months ago, before he had met Moira. He briefly considered resuming the sex, if not the relationship, but frowned. It had been a clean break, like all of the others. Unlike this messy break with Moira. If that was what it was. John still wasn't sure, still hovered on the brink of a decision.

With a heavy sigh he trudged to the bio lab, wondering what Moira intended to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Adaptation3

Evan stared round the deserted bio lab. Pulled up a chair and sat. Slouched. Shook his head. "I couldn't believe it. When Moira told me. About that Atlantis. What kind of an Atlantis must that be? I can't imagine it! At war with an ATA endowed Wraith and–"

"Full military?" Rodney asked, pulling up a chair to sit. Tapping his foot on the floor. A repetitive staccato noise that caused Carson to glare at his friend. "How could they even run the city without scientists or civilians? I mean, I was there, but even I can't do everything or be everywhere at once! Where was Elizabeth, or Radek?"

"Probably sent to the other sites for safety," Evan assumed. "Evacuate all civilian personnel except those necessary for the city's defenses," he cited.

"I can't believe they didn't make it..." Carson pulled up a chair, joining them. "I mean their Moira and their Evan. That poor lass...that poor..." He dabbed at his eyes.

"And what about their version of John?" Rodney inquired. "Surely he wasn't that different."

Evan shook his head. "Oh, he was. At least that was what Moira said."

"Of course he was! After losing Moira and having her die in his arms! My God, man, what do you expect but that he would be–"

"Carson!" Evan warned, gesturing. His forefinger across his throat. For silence.

"What? What the devil are you oh." Carson heard the distinctive stomping of John's boots on the floor and nodded. "So, colonel, what do you think Moira wants?" he asked.

John eyed them. Scowling, guessing the conversation he had ended. He grabbed a chair, sat. "I don't know. I'll tell you one thing, though. We are not talking about this. About that other Atlantis. I don't care what Moira has planned. Understood?"

"Only in general terms," Moira conceded, joining them. She closed the doors, wheeled over a cart containing three cartons of beer. "We need this. Well, you all seem to need this," she corrected as the men's gazes devoured the sight. "Like before. No, sit." She stopped them as they half rose from their seats. She handed Evan a beer.

He smiled, took it. "Thanks, Moira. Does this mean the singing re-match is on?"

"God, no!" Rodney moaned. "I'm not getting drunk like that again!" Nevertheless he took the beer she offered him. She handed one to Carson.

"Thank you, love. I know I need this."

Moira handed one to John. He smiled, took it. Let his fingers skip along hers. "Just the thing, Moira. But I meant what I said. We are not discussing that other Atlantis. Or its personnel."

"Whatever, John." As the men laughed, began to imbibe the liquor in hearty swallows she considered how to proceed.

"Moira." John patted his thighs, a clear invitation for her to sit on his lap, like she had the first time they had met like this. In a group after a crisis to relax, review, and blow off steam.

Moira ignored him. Pulled up a chair next to his and sat. Could feel his disgruntled disappointment but turned to Rodney. "Rodney," she began, "you had a question about the light anomaly?"

"Oh, yes, I did," he agreed. Downing the beer with long swallows.

She waited. Waited. "And?" she finally prompted. The men grinned.

"Oh! Right! The anomaly! The light anomaly. John didn't describe it very well, says he didn't see it or some such nonsense. I need to know if it appeared the same going as it did coming back. The lights, the distortions."

Moira considered. "It was very quick, but...yes. It was a little different coming back than going. There were red flashes that I didn't see before when we first triggered it. An almost solid wave of flickering light. Is that significant?"

"Could be," Rodney noted.

"Rodney, would this particular anomaly take us to the same alternate reality each time?" she asked.

John frowned. "We're never going back there," he stated. He touched her arm briefly, for emphasis. "Don't tell me you want to go back there to–"

"No, no, I was just asking, that's all," she hastily assured. Drew away from his touch. "I meant theoretically," she added.

"Theoretically? No. It could open up at a number of realities...unless, of course, you had the exact equations of that reality to trigger the anomaly. Otherwise the multi-verse is vast," he enthused, starting on his second beer like the rest. "There could be any number of realities. Different versions of Atlantis, of us. There's no telling where we could end up if we triggered the anomaly without the proper equations and frequencies."

"Not a problem. We're never going to trigger it," John vowed. "So...theoretically we could find another Atlantis, a different one. Nicer. Friendlier. With everyone there."

"Yes, that's what I said," Rodney sighed. "Theoretically there could be multiple versions of the city, of us...different but the same. What part didn't you understand, John?"

"I think Colonel Sheppard means there could be an infinite number of Moiras out there," Evan posited, glancing at John who was downing his beer.

"Yeah. Another version, in another version of here..." John drawled. Grabbed another beer. "'Cause you know what I'm thinking." He smiled. The men shared smiles.

"What? What is he thinking?" asked Moira, mystified. She eyed the men.

"Twins," Carson answered. Laughter ensued.

Moira stared, then sighed, rolled her eyes. "Men!" she complained, causing more laughter. More drinking as cans were handed round.

"You know what was interesting?" John said, lazily relaxing at last as he slouched in the chair. "What was interesting were the ships. The combination of our Jumpers and the Wraith's Vipers. Flew like a dream."

"What? A complete system interface?" asked Rodney.

"Complete. The one we flew was a dream," John repeated. "Almost everything was automated, even the support systems. Mostly by sheer thought, like an accelerated Ancient tech device. That baby flew smooth as silk but could accelerate on a dime. It even had Wraith culling beams, but altered by Asgard tech."

"What about weapons, sir?" asked Evan.

"Ah," John smiled, warming to the subject. "You wouldn't believe it, major! You saw the damage our Jumper sustained. As well as drones it had concussion missiles and Wraith laser beams that could target specific systems on the other ship! Plus I'd bet money it had a fully functional missile launch tube, but I didn't have a chance to use it. And it must have had hyperdrive capabilities too."

"No no no no no no," Rodney disagreed in a rush, waving his hand clumsily. "I doubt it. Even with a limited interface of both Asgard and Wraith technology there's no way a ship of that size could house a hyperdrive unit, much less manage to generate enough power to open a wormhole. It would burn out its generators."

"How were the drive pods?" asked Evan.

"Missing. No, it's true!" John exclaimed to Evan's disbelief. He pointed. "The whole design was slick, streamlined. Could easily fit into a Stargate and never get stuck, like ours did. And the underbelly had a harder–"

"Enough about the bloody ships, colonel!" Carson interjected. "What about these altered Wraith? You said they had the ATA gene." He looked at Moira suddenly. "Oh! Sorry, love!"

"The ones that lived," Moira answered. "They were able to access all Lantean technology and were winning the war. Getting closer to Atlantis. I believe that the ATA gene in the human DNA strands bound only too well, when it worked, better than the artificial gene, like you suggested, Carson. I was given the impression these Wraith had experimented even further."

"With the Hoffan serum?" Carson guessed.

"Yes. Yes! That's what John...I mean...the colonel said." Moira glanced at John as he scowled. But his expression softened seeing her distress. She looked back at Carson. "They weren't like the Wraith we know. Something more. More advanced...like that Atlantis was more advanced."

"A new evolution then. Interesting," Carson noted, rubbing his chin.

"Different Wraith for a different reality. That's a thought," Evan remarked. "And not a pleasant one." Silence. Each man brooding on his private thoughts.

Moira sighed. Her plan was suddenly backfiring. "I know a pleasant one," she stated. "We should have that singing re-match."

The men groaned in unison. She laughed as they reached for more beer. Exchanged pained expressions. "No way," Carson stated.

"Ah, Carson!" Moira pouted. "Why not? You were the best!" A nudge to her chair from John's foot made her add, "one of the best."

"Exactly, love. It wouldn't be a fair contest," Carson said. Serious. Laughter and snorts of derision followed his boast.

"I think we should," Evan agreed, smiling. "Because I can't believe in any universe that McKay sings better than I do!" Laughter.

"I do?" Rodney asked, as surprised as the rest. "Of course I do. I'm a scientist." He gestured with the beer in his hand. "I understand pitch, tone, harmony. All you understand is how to fire a gun." Laughter.

"But I know positioning, strategy, timing...not like a scientist." Laughter. "Right, colonel?"

"Don't bother to ask him," Carson retorted, "he didn't participate last time. And having heard him on the PA you really, really don't want to hear him sing. Trust me!"

"Carson! That's not fair! John can sing when he wants to sing," Moira protested, but glanced at John lest he object or become annoyed. "But he hardly ever does. Darth Spoilsport there isn't any fun," she added, trying to lighten the mood with gentle teasing.

"Hey!" John protested, gently kicking her chair again. Laughter.

"Too true, Moira," Evan sighed. "Lover boy there doesn't let us have any fun."

"Evan!" Moira warned, eyes widening. She glanced at John.

He smiled. Gestured with his beer. "That's Colonel Lover boy, major. And no, I do have fun. Moira, tell him I have fun. Or I did...I...shit..." he groused, frowning in confusion.

"You do, but we don't. Do you, Moira?" asked Rodney, not very clear.

"Do I?" she asked, not following.

"Yes, scientists do, Moira," Carson agreed.

"Hell no! Only I do Moira," John corrected. Laughter ensued. "Or I did..." He glanced at her. Uncertain. Uneasy. Mind fuddled by the alcohol.

"John!" Moira scolded, then looked away hearing his last words. Wondered if he had dumped her after all. She waited until the lewd laughter had subsided. Stood. "All right, boys. I think you've had more than enough for one night."

"Not nearly enough," John muttered.

"John, shut up!" She leaned over to grab the bottle from his hand. He raised his brow, glanced around her pointedly. She cursed, straightened, seeing where his gaze had wandered. All of the men were looking, then studiously examining the floor or their empty cans. "For crying out loud!" she complained. "Men!"

"Pert," John reiterated. Uproarious laughter filled the room.

"Fine, fine!" She grabbed the cans out of their hands one by one, set them aside. "Tonight's the night I shouldn't have let any of you have this much beer!

"_It's gonna be all right,_" Carson sang, prompted by her words. The others joined in suddenly, as Carson led them. "_'Cause I'm in love with you love ain't nobody gonna stop us now!_"

Moira laughed, delighted, surprised.

"I got this!" Rodney exclaimed. He lurched to his feet, caught Moira's hand in his. Sang drunkenly, "_Stay away from my window..._" He sang the verses, voice in tune but slurring slightly as he swayed to the music playing in his head.

Evan stood, caught her hand and turned her to him. Continued, "_Kick off your shoes and sit right down..._" He sang the verses between hiccups, a grin on his face. As he reached the chorus they all joined in loudly.

"_Tonight's the night..._" They sang in close harmony, but loudly and drunkenly. Charmingly swaying in time to the words, to the music as all knew the song, the melody.

Moira grinned, trying not to laugh. She freed her hands but John stood, caught her. Spun her round to face him. Sang the next verse. "_Come on angel, my heart's on fire..._" His fine voice only strayed off-key a little as he sang the words. His husky voice added a sensuality that made her tense, tighten.

As he reached the chorus they all sang, "_Tonight's the night..._" They swayed, sang, hummed the musical interlude. Beating the time on their thighs, with their feet on the floor.

Moira stared at John, completely enchanted. But she found herself spun again as Carson caught her elbow. Turned her to him.

"_Don't say a word, my virgin child..._" he sang. The verses flowing melodically from his lips, the Scottish accent stronger. As he reached the chorus they all joined in again.

"_Tonight's the night!_" they sang, more off-key now and loud. Plopping down in their chairs. Finishing with a flourish. They drunkenly repeated it, no longer in time with each other or in tune.

Elizabeth walked into the lab. She smirked, shook her head. "Another party, gentlemen?"

Silence. All voices halted. A burp. Moira turned, colored. "Uh, uh, Doctor Weir...the, the boys were just blowing off some steam, is all. I mean, we were just relaxing after the debrief."

"I see that, Moira. And you got them to sing again. I am impressed."

"Well..." Rodney stood. Swayed. "That does it for me. Goodnight. I've got to call on a very, very beautiful botanist. If you'll excuse me excuse me...." he rambled. Headed out of the lab.

Carson stood. "It's been a fine night, lads!" He touched Moira's arm. "I'm so glad you're back, love, and safe with us. And not harmed. Oh, and you too, Evan."

"Thanks, doc. Appreciate the concern," Evan noted. Moved to his feet.

"Concern? Over what?" Elizabeth asked.

"Vampire rabbits," Evan supplied. The men laughed.

"Seriously, Moira..." Carson paused, emotional. "Seriously...you...you're here. I'm glad. And you," he pointed a finger at John, "remember what I said earlier! I mean it, John. I do!" He wrapped his arm around Evan's shoulders. "Now my fine lad, I am glad you are here with us as well. You know, I knew a man named Ivan in medical school and he was–"

"My name's Evan so I hardly see how that is relevant to any–" Evan objected as the two men left the lab.

"Colonel...you seem to have imbibed with the rest this time," Elizabeth noted. Hands on her hips as she surveyed her military commander.

John shrugged. "Only a little, Elizabeths." His gaze moved to Moira. She was busily cleaning up the mess. Gathering the several empty cans into a trash can that was rapidly overflowing. "We're going to bed now," he assured. Smiled.

"I hope so, John. Moira, I want to see you in the morning. Goodnight."

Moira set the trash can onto the floor. Softly swore as Elizabeth exited. "Great. Just great. I know what that means. She's going to ream my ass for this," she realized.

John smiled, stood. Moved to touch her back. "The only one who will ream that pert little ass is me, baby. No...wait...that's not the word, is it? What is the word?"

"John." She took his hand. "Let's get you to bed, colonel."

"That sounds like a plan, baby. A plan. Hey, Moira!" he suddenly exclaimed as she led him out of the lab. "Why wouldn't you sit on my lap? I wanted that pert little ass on my lap. I want it, baby. I want it."

"Shut up, John. Here." She slid her arm around his waist, guiding him as he swayed.

He pulled her against him. "Seriously, sheriously, Moira, why? Why?"

"Quiet, John. Boy you are going to be in a bad mood tomorrow," she rued.

"Me? Nah. Tonight. _Tonight's the night!_" he sang loudly, laughed.

"Ssh! Come on!" she scolded, but smiled.

"_Relax, baby...spread your legs and let me come inside 'cause..._" he sang, garbling the words.

"Ssh!" She pulled him into his room. Guided him to the bed and pushed him onto it. He fell backwards, laughed as he sprawled, scooted up to the pillows. "John, you–"

"Your bed is better, Moira. Damn it. Only I do Moira. Right? Me! Or that fucking alternate me, but still me. Right? Fuck, the ceiling's spinning. Guess I did have one too many, huh?"

"Brilliant deduction, John." She sat near, touched his arm. Oddly serious as he blearily eyed her.

"John...I, I just realized...and I wanted you to know."

"Realized? What? Moira?" He shifted, about to sit but changed his mind, watched her. Tried to clear the buzz in his head. Tensing slightly. "Look, um, I know we, um, that is, I–"

"No." She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "John, I want you to know. You'll never be him. Never become him." She freed his lips.

"I...oh. Oh." He scowled. "I hope to God I don't, for your sake, Moira."

"Exactly," she agreed. Finger playing along his bare arm now. Soothing touches.

"What?" He stared at her, drawn by her words, by the sorrow in her brown eyes. By her caresses on his arm.

"You won't. I didn't realize it before, all of the trauma, the, the stress blinded me. The emotion...but I want you to know this, John...no matter what, what happens between us, or not, or...anyway, you won't. It's not in you."

"It is," he disagreed. "Just buried deep. A shadow...a..." He licked his lips. Wishing he had another beer suddenly. As the conversation verged on dangerous territory.

"No. You're not him, John. He..." She had to look away, towards the familiar surroundings of his room. Touches of his personality. "He despised weakness. The weakness in her. In himself maybe too, for her weakness, for even needing her. You're not like that. When I...when I was falling apart, when I shatter you're there. You were there to hold me, to mend me...you never despised me or hated me when I was weak or broken. But he did. He did hate her, resented her."

John caught her hand, halting her caresses. "I couldn't hate you, Moira. Ever. Not even now, not even knowing what you..." He sighed. "I would certainly never break you. You needed me to be there and I was. I'll always be there for you, sweetheart, I..." His words faltered.

Moira felt tears. "Will you, John? No, don't answer that, I know." She touched his lips again.

"Don't. Not now. Not yet. Just know that you are not the same, John. Not the same as him. You might have a bad day but you'll never go dark side. I'm sorry, I was too upset to see it before now and then you...well, I..."

"Moira," he said, but her fingers slipped from his. He closed his eyes. "Fuck. We really can't do this now, I mean, I'm drunk and can't think clearly. Okay?"

"Okay, John. It's...it's done, anyway, I guess. I..." She sighed, looked around. Loathe to leave. Uncertain as to whether or not to stay. "John?" She looked at him. He was asleep. Snoring softly, his breath fluttering in and out. Limbs flung in every direction along the bed. Head turned to one side. Long lashes sweeping darkly against his skin. The slightest shadow of scruff lining his jaw, his chin. Full, luscious lips at rest, slightly parted. Formed in a perfect Cupid's bow of temptation. Enticement. Dark hair mussed in every direction.

She smiled, but sadness lingered. At the strange tenor of the emotion. The finality, yet here she was, sitting on his bed and he hadn't objected. She stretched out next to him, cuddling against him. Hand on his chest. Needing to feel him. The warmth, the solidity of his body, his affection. She closed her eyes, relaxing. Intending only to stay for a little while. Just a little while.


	4. Chapter 4

Adaptation4

John stirred. Shifted. Pain jolted along his back. Tendrils of aching stiffness along his muscles. He groaned softly. Head pounding quietly as the hangover lingered. Blearily he opened his eyes. Felt Moira next to him. His fingers caught on her shirt. He wondered why she was clothed. Why he was clothed. Recollections foggy. Indistinct. His fingers scooted, scrunched the material until he touched her bare skin. Needing to feel her bare skin. Her naked body. Soft and pliant under his. He groaned again but this time it wasn't from the pain.

Moira stirred, feeling John moving next to her. His fingers on the bare skin of her back. Callused touches rough but gentle. Startled she sat up, glanced round to see daylight flooding the room.

"Shit! Oh shit!"

"Morning to you too, Moira," John said, amused. He smiled as she met his gaze. "What?" Her panicked gaze slid from his face to his pants. He glanced down his body. Saw the magenta material peeking out of his pocket. Smirked.

Moira stared at the fabric. Heart hammering in anguish. For a moment fearing it belonged to some other woman. But she pulled it out of his pocket, recognized the panties as her own. A wave of relief swept through her. "John? What the hell? John?"

"What? Oh, those? I found them in my bed, Moira. So I kept them. Trophy."

"You...what? You had these in your pocket the whole...in the debrief? You had your hand in your pocket during the whole debrief! You were...you were..."

He smiled, finding her flustered state arousing, amusing. She was waving the panties in front of him like a flag. "Yes, baby, I was. Stroking them. Fondling them, if you will. That soft, sweet satin...except they weren't really the way I like them." His low voice was husky with sensuality.

Moira swallowed, but shoved the panties into her pocket. "Hilarious, John! I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stay, I fell asleep. I didn't mean to–"

"So you didn't have your wicked way with me?" he teased, deflecting her emotion.

"No. Where's the fun in that when you were out like a light, flyboy?" She smiled, but cursed. Stood. "I'm sorry, John, really! I didn't mean to stay, to stay like this, I mean I know you, we...we're not....I'll just go."

"Moira? Moira!" he called, sitting awkwardly as his head swam in protest. He watched her leave. Almost went after her. Almost.

**************************************************************************

"Moira?"

Moira whirled at the female voice, only steps from John's closed door, from his room she had just exited in a maelstrom of emotion and confusion. "Oh...um...Louise."

Louise Otero stared. Shocked. "You...Moira? You? You...that's Colonel Sheppard's room!" Her gaze took in Moira's unkempt appearance. Hair messily falling loose from the ponytail. Clothes all rumpled as if they had been slept in or hastily pulled on. The same clothes she had on yesterday. Her embarrassed, flustered expression.

"I...yes. I mean, I was just consulting with the colonel, over, over a mission," she stammered, uncertain. Glanced at the closed door. Could only imagine John's annoyance.

"A mission? Or the missionary position?" Louise quipped, but her words were laced with anger. Envy. Her blue eyes narrowed. She shook her head. Short red hair whipping around her face. "I don't believe it! You? You and–"

"I've got work to do, Louise. It was nothing, nothing!" Moira quickly strode down the hallway. Cursing over and over to herself.

After a quick shower and change of clothes she entered the cafeteria. Filling a tray she joined Katie Brown and Julie Armstrong. And Louise much to her consternation. Ignoring the third woman Moira ate her breakfast. Listened to the idle chatter. "A trip to the mainland?" she asked, becoming interested in the conversation.

"Yes," Katie enthused. Smiled. "A full-on expedition. It should be explored completely. Not in fits and starts like we're doing now. Even beyond the Athosian settlements and that mountain range. I can handle the botany. You can handle the zoology. Julie is our resident geologist and Louise can operate any tech we find."

Julie laughed. "If only! A girl's expedition? Not likely in this galaxy. Like I've been telling you, Katie, they won't go for it. Not without insisting we are accompanied by a few marines. Military escorts, like we need them," she snorted, tossing her blond hair over her shoulder.

"There's really no need on the mainland," Moira agreed, interested. "We wouldn't be that far from Atlantis and could radio for help if we needed it." She frowned. "But we would need a pilot with the ATA gene."

"Gee, know of any?" Louise asked, voice sharp.

**************************************************************************

John had showered, neglected to shave. Grabbed some food in the cafeteria and sat with Rodney who was devouring his breakfast like a man starved for food. John glanced along the tables, saw Moira. Resolved to talk to her, to clear up this thing between them. But after he had eaten. "Drive pods?" he prompted.

"Yes, as I was saying," Rodney repeated around a mouthful of food, "we have fixed the drive pods and the hull is nearly finished. Despite my headache. Remind me never to drink like that again, would you? It impedes my thinking."

John smiled. "Sorry, Rodney, but you did it to yourself. So that just leaves the auxiliary systems and the viewport. It had a crack in it. Good job, Rodney! Not bad for a guy hung-over!"

"Do you have to shout?" Rodney complained. At John's laugh he frowned, put his head in his hands. "Why oh why did I let this happen again? Oh right...Moira."

John nodded. "She can be very persuasive, but don't blame her. You drank all of that beer on your own initiative. Like we all did."

Rodney sighed, met his gaze. "I know, I know. Tell me, this darker Atlantis...it must have been grim. And your other self? Equally grim?"

"Worse. I don't want to talk about it," John refused. Stabbed at his food with his fork.

"Okay. I was just curious. It must have been hard for Moira. I mean, since she was dead there, well, that version of her, you know. They must have thought they were seeing a ghost."

"Yeah. Something like that," John evaded. "Now leave it be, Rodney." A pause. Thoughts and emotions swarming in his head. Moira's sorrow. His jealousy. Carson's anger. Moira's love. His feelings for her. Carson's advice. He shook himself out of his brooding. Met Rodney's gaze. "Unless you want to get drunk again."

"God, no!" John laughed at his exclamation.

*********************************************************************

"They'll insist," Julie continued. "You know how these men are. These marines think we scientists are helpless. I am so glad a civilian is in charge of this expedition. Can you imagine how bad it would be if the military were in charge?"

"It would be grim," Moira agreed, pushing the memory of that other John from her mind. "But we do need them out here."

"True," Katie sighed. "The Pegasus Galaxy is not the safest."

"Of course you'd say that," Louise noted, scowling. Eyes on Moira. "You are very close to the military, aren't you?"

"So," Moira said, ignoring the jibe, "if we were to mount this expedition how long do you think it would take?"

"Oh, you would know all about mounting, now wouldn't you?" Louise taunted.

"Louise, lay off!" Julie snapped. "Whatever is your problem is–"

"I saw her! Coming out of Colonel Sheppard's room! This morning!"

Moira sighed. "I told you, I had to consult with Colonel Sheppard over a mission that we–"

"In the same clothes you wore yesterday?" All eyes were on Moira. She remained silent.

"I say a week," Katie resumed the previous topic, "maybe two for a thorough exploration. But I think that Julie is right. They either won't approve it or will insist on a full military escort. They'll just get in the way."

"Waving their guns around," Julie agreed.

"I'm sure Moira could get us out of that. In fact I'm sure she can get whatever she wants. Isn't that right, Moira?" Louise asked sweetly. Daggers of jealousy in her eyes.

***********************************************************************

"So we can have the ship operational when? A week?" John asked, moving to a safer topic.

Rodney shrugged. "More or less. You'll have to use another Jumper until then. I'm surprised you'd want to leave the city already. Oh, unless it's to explore somewhere else? With Moira, perhaps?" he hinted, a grin on his face.

John ignored him. "Do you think you can work on the possibility of those hybrids? I drew up a rough schematic of that ship, that hybrid ship and if you could work on–"

"Oh come on, John! Admit it!"

"Admit what, Rodney?" he asked mildly.

Rodney smiled, pointed at him. "It seems I am the last to know. About you. You and Moira. A scientist, John? Really?"

John inwardly groaned, but nodded. "Yeah. A scientist."

"Wow. Never would I have pictured you with...her."

John frowned. Set down his fork. "And why is that, exactly?"

"No offense, I just meant...wow...she's just not your, um, usual. Usual type, I mean. You know. Your usual type of woman."

"I have a type?" John asked, sitting back in his chair. Arms folded across his chest.

***************************************************************************

"No, that's not right," Moira corrected calmly. "If we present our proposal to Doctor Weir I'm sure she'll agree a full military escort won't be necessary. But we will need a pilot to–"

"Oh, come on! We all know, Moira! You don't even have to through Weir anymore, do you? Just put out and he'll get you whatever you want. Or so I've heard from his other–"

Moira frowned. "It's not like that," she said tersely. "And those others were lying because he would never confuse the two. His personal life and his professional life are very, very separate."

"It's not like that? Really?" Louise scoffed.

"You're seeing Colonel Sheppard?" Katie asked. "Wow."

************************************************************************

"Well, um, um, yes! Yes! I mean, you know, John. A type, a certain type apart from those ascended or ascending women who always seem to, um, fancy you, for whatever reason I cannot fathom. You'd think they would want a more compatible companion, like me, for example, a brilliant scientist and physicist who understands the Ancient tech and all, but yes, you have a type," Rodney babbled, seeing John's growing ire. "All that I meant is that it is just surprising to see you interested in a scientist. Not an actual scientist like me but a what could be considered a scientist and who is not your certain type who has a, a..."

"A what?" John asked sternly.

***************************************************************************

"No," Moira said, "why don't you stop while you're ahead, all right?" she advised, glaring at Louise. She eyed the other two women. "This expedition does sound–"

"Of course it is!" Louise said loudly. "Come on, Moira! Say it! Say it! If it was me I'd be shouting it over the PA! You can get whatever the hell you want now, can't you?"

"No," Moira tried to reason. "I can't."

"You can! Because you are fucking Colonel Sheppard!"

Silence fell like a stone at Louise's raised, angered voice. The loud comment carried across the length of the cafeteria. The words seeming to echo. All eyes turned to that particular table.

************************************************************************

Rodney glanced back at that table. Then eyed John who had glanced over there. But sipped some water, straightening in his chair. Seemingly oblivious. "Uh...John...shouldn't you..."

"No. I only wish I was..." he muttered.

"What? No?"

"Moira can handle it," he said mildly. But he kept one eye on that table.

*************************************************************************

Moira stood. Angered but calm. Forgetting for a moment that they had, in fact, broken up. Possibly. She still needed an answer from John. "If by fucking you mean seeing, then yes, I am," she informed. "And that has absolutely no relevance to any mission or expedition."

"You're just jealous, Louise! Half of the women will be now," Julie observed, trying to stem the tide, the confrontation. "Although why you would want a military man is beyond me, Moira."

Moira leaned towards the other woman, voice lowering. Cold. "And by the way, just so you know. Yes. I am fucking Colonel Sheppard, and it is so good, so fucking good you cannot even begin to imagine how fucking good it is." She straightened. Sat. Drank some water. "So, this expedition. Do you think we could get a go for next week?"

************************************************************************8

"Uh, John?" Rodney asked, as eyes moved to him, to her. Back and forth as if they were watching a tennis match. Smiles. Grins. Scowls.

"What?" John asked, eating his food again. He glanced at that table. Saw the women resume chatting as the red-haired one stared at him. Then abruptly stood and left the table.

"I guess she did handle it. Like you said. I wonder what that last part was...if that had been a man saying that to her–"

"He'd be dead now, Rodney. Eat. We've got work to do later."

***********************************************************************

Moira ate, glanced at Katie and Julie. Shrugged. "Sorry about that. It had to be done, and a little Irish temper goes a long way." The women laughed.

"And well done," Julie agreed with a smile. "You know, you are the envy of many women."

Moira sighed. "I know...I was," she muttered, uncertain. Laughter drowned her words.

Katie shook her head. "Wow. I don't know if I could have done that. If it had been a man who had said that to you–"

"John would have been over here so fast it would have made your head spin," Moira commented. She glanced over her shoulder to see his eyes on her. She looked back at her friends. "Although I know, I just know he is pissed right now. Damn it. When this reaches Weir she'll...oh shit! I am supposed to meet her this morning!" she realized. Stood.

"Why? You didn't do anything. It was all Louise," Julie remarked.

"Just put her in her place, is all," Katie agreed.

"I better go. Weir's expecting me. I'll grab some files first," Moira stammered. She exited the cafeteria with quick strides.

***********************************************************************

"So you would have gone over there and handled it?" Rodney asked.

"Yes. And he'd be dead," John reiterated. Gaze on Moira as she left. Her rapid strides making her ponytail swing back and forth like a beacon. Her hips swaying.

"You mean...really?"

"Yes."

"You obviously don't expect any kind of trouble like that from your marines, then?"

"No. Why would I?" John asked, stood. "I'll meet you in the Jumper bay in one, no, two hours." He stepped quickly out of the cafeteria. A smile forming on his handsome face.


	5. Chapter 5

Adaptation5

John stood outside of Moira's door. He glanced up and down the hallway. Knocked briskly. Knuckles rapping against the door with concise precision.

"Just a sec!" Moira called, sounding annoyed. John smiled at her tone. Could imagine her flustered state. Anticipated it.

Moira snatched a folder off the table. Moved to the door and waved it open. "I'm just on my way to see Weir so this had better...oh." She stared, surprised. Eyes roving over him as he lounged in the doorway. Black t-shirt molded to his lean torso. Gray pants molded to his long legs. "John?"

"Moira." His gaze moved over her loosening ponytail. Her brown shirt and dark blue pants. The fabric was loose, not as tight as he would have liked. He met her gaze. Smiled. "Aren't you supposed to be fucking me?"

Moira's gaze narrowed. "Hilarious, John. Move. I've got to see Weir."

"No. Aren't you, Moira?" he repeated, stepping into the room. Deliberately forcing her to step backwards out of his way. He waved the door closed with his hand.

"Damn it, John, you tell me, because honestly, I don't know. Ironic, isn't it? The one time I get caught coming out of your room is the one time we didn't have sex. But I know you're pissed but you know what? I don't care."

He stepped to her, making her turn and back up into the wall. Folder held up in front of her breasts like a shield. "Really now? You don't care. Huh...funny that. Because neither do I." Before she could register her disbelief he kissed her. Pulling her against him, crushing the folder between them. "We need to have sex, Moira," he said into her ear. Kissing down her throat.

She pushed him. "No! We're not having sex, John! We're not having sex just to have sex! Unless...unless we're not broken up. Are we back together, John?" she asked. Trying to keep control of her emotions. Her body's eager response to his.

"No." He kissed her again, pushing her back against the wall. Yanking the folder out of her hand and tossing it to the floor. Papers fluttered around them.

"What?" She pushed again. Hands on his chest. "We...we're not?" Tears threatened in her wide brown eyes as she stared.

He smiled. "No, Moira. We're not back together." He paused, ran a finger down her rosy cheek. "We're not back together because we never broke up." He kissed her. Hands running down her sides to her hips. Guiding her body against his. Pulling her away from the wall now to cup her rear, to gently squeeze as his tongue dove into her mouth.

Moira murmured, lost in the erotic sensations, the hungering demands of his mouth, his hands. His growing erection pressing against her now. But she pulled away, hit the wall. "What? You...we...you...you sent me away..."

"I did. I needed time, but we never broke up, sweetheart. Never. There's no way in hell I'm giving up this. You." He kissed her again. A long, savoring motion of his mouth on hers. As if to taste her confusion, her sorrow, her need. He stepped away, only to sweep her up off her feet. Into his arms as he carried her to the bed.

"John?" She scrambled, squirmed, clutched at him as she was suddenly airborne. Pressed against his chest, his waist as he carried her. She smiled, laughed as he tossed her onto the bed. "John!" she exclaimed, surprised, enamored.

He laughed, moved to her. Over her as he pushed her onto her back. "Moira. I want you. I want you to, what was it? Oh yes. Baby, I want you to fuck me." He kissed her passionately. Fingers plying at her clothing.

Her fingers were just as eager, just as impatient. Tugging at his clothes as their mouths entwined. Their bodies shoving against each other. "John! I have to go see–"

"Later," he intoned in her ear. Sat and yanked off his shirt. "This is more important, Moira. Much more important. Besides, I'll take the flak for you. Don't you worry." He leaned over to remove his boots.

Moira sat, staring. Relieved he still wanted her. Still wanted to be with her. She freed her hair. "Okay...I guess...I...um...John? You...oh John..." She watched as he stood, pulled down his pants, revealing his plum and white checkered boxers. "Oh my...that is quite the statement, colonel..."

He glanced over his shoulder at her, scowled. "Hilarious, Moira. No comments about my undies. Take off your shoes and socks. Nothing else. Yet." He smiled at her. Waited, hands on the waistband of his shorts. "What did you say to her?"

Moira smirked. "Say? To whom?" She untied her shoes. Hesitated and removed her socks.

John licked his lips slowly. He suddenly got onto the bed, lying next to her on his back. "Ah...this bed...feels so good, baby. To that woman. To make her leave in a huff. She stared at me like I was a piece of meat," he complained.

"Oh." She laughed. Turned and pounced on him. Clambered up his body. To trap him under her as her mouth ran over his. Kissing him deeply, tasting his full lips. Gently sucking to make him groan softly. Her body squirming on his. She trailed kisses along his scruffy jaw. Up his throat. Circled his ear. "Oh John...I only told her the truth."

"The truth?" he asked, catching her. His hands slid along her back to her rear again.

"Yes, sweetie. That I am fucking Colonel Sheppard and it is so good, so fucking good she couldn't possibly believe it, or imagine it."

He grinned, but paused. Rolled them so she was beneath him. "You said that?" he asked, shifting on top of her to make her murmur, moan.

"Hmm...John...more or less. It is true."

"I know that, baby, I just ow!"

She hit his arm in reprimand. "You arrogant bastard," she teased.

He laughed. "Oh baby, if I were to even to begin to brag about you every man in this city would want you. Hell, Moira, you gave an entire planet a hard-on, for crying out loud," he teased.

"Shut up, John! Oh! We can't do this!" She shoved. He slid off her and she sat. "John!"

"What? Shouldn't you be fucking me?" he reminded, a sly smile on his handsome face. He sat, considering what to do.

"No. I mean, what about your back? What about Weir? What about last night's drunken, um, debrief?" She looked round the room, back to him. Worried. Freed her hair from the ponytail.

John's gaze wandered. Her loose hair swirling deliciously around her. The ends curling down to her breasts, to the rosy nipples hardening under the shirt, the bra. "Doesn't matter. None of it. I know exactly what we need to do, baby," he assured, voice husky with need. Desire. He caught her lips again. Ran his fingers in her hair as his mouth trailed along her throat. Nibbled her earlobe.

A soft whimper escaped Moira's lips. A shiver coursing along her body in reaction to his voice, his touch, his kiss, his gaze. "John? What?" she managed to ask, breathless.

"We need to have sex, Moira," he explained. Kissed her again. His lips slow, gentle. Tasting. Promising passion. Hands cupping her breasts now, caressing. Teasing.

"I know, you said that, sweetie, and–"

"No, baby. Not just any sex." He trailed kisses along her throat again. "Touch me."

She ran her hand up his chest. Felt the solid warmth, the lean muscles. Fingers tugging at the dark hair. "John?"

"No. Touch me, Moira," he repeated. He nibbled along her throat down to her collarbone. All the while his fingers plying her breasts, gently squeezing.

Moira shifted, reacting vividly. His seductions arousing. Exciting. Her fingers trailed down to his waist. To his shorts. To his crotch were his erection was jutting against the fabric. She caressed, caught hold. "John?" She kissed him.

"My Moira, we need to have sex," he repeated, growing harder and harder as her grasp stroked. Tightened.

"I know, you keep saying that," she replied in a breathless gasp.

"Mind-numbing sex," he clarified. "Okay, baby?"

She hesitated. Stared into his brilliant green eyes. Full of passion, playfulness. Hunger. "Okay, sweetie," she answered. Uncertain but trusting him.

He smiled. Kissed her. A long, slow kiss taking possession of her mouth. He groaned as her fingers closed over, around him. "Take off your shirt," he intoned into her ear. Sat back. His hand on her thigh as he freed her breasts.

She eyed him, wondering what he was planning. She pulled off the shirt, set it aside. Gulped as his gaze slowly roved over her. Her hair spilling down to her breasts encased in a brown satin bra. He ran a finger over the swells of her breasts.

"I trust the panties match?"

"See for yourself, flyboy."

He smiled. Kissed her, halting the growing passion of her lips with his. Stopping her hands from touching his chest as she freed him at last. "Not yet. Take off the bra."

She met his gaze, wondering what game he was playing. What slow, sweet seduction this was. Enjoying every minute of it. She reached back to unhook the bra. Slid the straps down slowly. Removed it and set it aside. Felt a shiver as his gaze slid over her. Her body reacting, reacting to just his gaze, his nearness. "John..." she said softly, voice caught between desire and curiosity.

He smiled. "So beautiful, Moira. So very, very beautiful. Lay back."

She did so, scooting up to the pillows. He caught her ankle. Stood. Paused as she stared at him, hair mussed, the ends straggling down to her breasts. "You–"

"Not quite yet, sweetheart." He paused, controlling his lust, his love, his desire. His body reacting quickly. Too quickly for what he had in mind. He caressed her scarred foot a moment. "Unzip."

She reached down, unbuttoned, unzipped the pants. Lifted as he slowly pulled them off her body.

"Ah...they do match," he said approvingly. "Tell me, Moira, are they wet?"

She frowned, but replied coyly, "Why don't you come see for yourself, John?"

"I will...but I want them gushing. Sodden. Check for me first."

"What?" Surprised she stared. Colored.

"Please, Moira. Just see if they are wet," he insisted. Shifting his stance.

She hesitated. "You and your kinky..." she muttered. Licked her lips. Ran her hand down her waist. Over her panties. Between her legs. "Yes, John, they–"

"Make absolutely certain, baby," he said, a groan escaping his lips. Gaze riveted. So eager to take her but he held back, held back.

She colored, shifted, aroused under his gaze. Felt herself tightening, tensing. Anticipating him. She rubbed her fingers along the panties, drew her hand away as he moaned. "Yes, John, they are wet. Very wet."

"Hmm...then we had better remove them, baby. Wait!" He stroked her ankle. "You remove them."

"I..." She sighed. Slid her hands down to her hips. Slid her fingers under the fabric. Slid them lower, lower. Wiggling and lifting to remove them, exposing herself to his intense scrutiny. She tried to keep her legs closed as she finally got them off her, bending her knees. "John–"

"Okay, Moira. Fuck," he muttered, voice nearly hoarse with need. "Now make certain you are wet enough."

"John! You want me to, to–"

"Yes. I so want you to, to..." he teased. Licked his lips. "Now, Moira."

She shifted, uncomfortable. Aroused. She gingerly touched herself. "Yes."

He grinned. "Ah, no. Not like that. Come on, baby, do it right. All the way. Open your thighs and make absolutely certain you are gushing wet for me. But tight. So fucking tight."

"John! I am not going to–" she protested, caught between arousal and embarrassment.

"Moira, the longer you delay the more likely it is I will come all over that bed," he warned, hand on the waistband of his shorts.

She sighed. "You and your kinky sexual–"

"Do it now," he urged.

She shifted. Debated. Touched herself, fingers skimming along her mound. She opened her legs slightly, dipped her fingers along the cleft, arching a little to push her breasts up, up. "Oh John, oh John," she moaned, anxious with need, with lust, "I am so wet, so tight, so fucking tight...hey, maybe I can do this without you."

He laughed, a low, sensual sound. Yanked off his shorts and was suddenly on top of her. He caught her hand, kissed her passionately. Jerked against her thigh but gritted his teeth. Stopped. Slid his now naked body half off of hers. So close to coming it was almost painful. Almost.

"John? Is it your back? Aren't you–" Moira asked, mistaking his reaction.

"Yes, oh yes, I am, but I want to do this first. I'm not done yet, Moira...if I can hold it...shit...just a second here...fuck..."

She smiled. "Don't hold back, John. Just have sex with me. This is fine, just fine," she urged, kissing along his jaw. Her fingers sliding up and down his arm.

"No." He breathed deeply, gaining control. Just. He caught her arms, gently moved them to either side of her head. "This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, Moira, so you had damn better appreciate it."

"Appreciate what, John? Just fuck me," she encouraged, puzzled. Saw his mirth. "John, please."

"Please?" He kissed her. "All in good time, sweetheart. First I want this. I need this."

"Want what?" She shifted her body against his. Inviting. Hot and welcoming. "John? What exactly do you want?"

"Moira..." He kissed her. Ran his mouth down her throat. Her shoulder. Teased around her breasts. She arched expectantly, whimpering softly. He groaned, slid his hands down her wrists to her forearms, still pinning her. Tongue gliding along her breasts, teasing the rosy nipples until he kissed eagerly, sucking to make her squirm, to moan.

Moira bit her lip, trying to keep quiet. Breathed quickly as he moved down her waist. To the scar. Teased along it. She shifted, arms moving down to her torso but he kept them pinned.

"Not yet," he groaned against her skin. Voice thrumming through her. He kissed lower. Lower.

She realized his destination. "John! Oh John, that? That again?"

"Moira, you are going to love this. In fact you are going to have the orgasm of a lifetime. Two if I can enter you in time. Multiples, baby."

"What? John, John," she stammered, trying to move, to free her arms, squirming. But he laughed along her skin. Lifted his head to meet her gaze. Freed her arms to touch her thighs. Shoved them apart. Wider. "Trust me, baby...and don't you dare hold back."

"John, John, you don't have to do this! Just come inside me to–" She gasped as he kissed her inner thigh. Hands on her hips as she writhed under him. She batted at his head, his shoulders. His mouth ran up her skin to her mound. Skimming the mound just as her fingers had done. "John, John, please...oh God...please..." she whimpered, sensations wild. Spirals of pleasure pulsing so intimately. He groaned, shifted. Slid down and searched for what he wanted.

Moira moaned, hands clawing at the blankets, at him as her body took over violently. She arched, squirmed. John shoved her thighs wide, hands on his pelvis to keep her in place, to keep her from escaping. Teasing nibbles were causing her to rock, to squirm. To whimper helplessly. To moan repeatedly. Pleasure circling, circling, but finding no release. Not yet as John teased and teased. Fingers sliding along her folds now, under and around. Abruptly he thrust, thrust to find that sweet center, the nub to make her moan, whimper. He kept at it ruthlessly, possessing her. Making her body writhe and jerk, flush hotly. Wetly. Opening completely to him.

Moira couldn't restrain her cries. Sounds issuing loudly, repeatedly from her lips. Nearly screaming his name in a breathless shudder as he sucked and sucked, taking all of her. The orgasm slammed into her. Pulsing in wave after wave. A sensual vibration. A ceaseless whirl she thought would kill her if he didn't stop. Her breath gone in a nearly painful murmur.

Finally John pulled out, back, eyed her. Gaze lustful, satisfied yet ravenous. He was starting to come, ejaculating on the bed, on her thigh. The crescendo of her cries and whimpers pushing him over the edge. Swiftly he slid up to thrust inside her. Finding her open but still tight. He thrust and thrust, gaining momentum now as she clenched over him. He groaned loudly, fingers digging into her hips but he freed her lest her inadvertently hurt her.

Moira arched, rocking wildly with him. Coming again in a rush, as intensely as the first time. Fluids gushing. Helpless her thighs opened wide, knees bending. Back arching. Almost up in the air as he thrust quicker, harder, deeper. Groaning as he throbbed, throbbed. Moira cried out repeatedly, lost in an endless repetition of his name. An endless cycle of pleasure. An endless momentum. He was so big, so hard, so long, making his way repeatedly deeper, deeper. The bed rocked violently underneath them.

John groaned, arching, thrusting with ecstatic abandon. Faster and faster. So hard he thought he would die, would never find that sweet release. But finally he did. An endless repetition of swear words escaped his lips as he came. An endless thrusting turned to spasm after spasm. Pleasure rippling along him now. Body releasing, relaxing from the strain, the hunger.

Moira lost her breath, clawing at his shoulders but being careful of his back. He abruptly fell upon her. Utterly spent. Sodden inside her, beneath her on the bed. He breathed heavily. Her breasts trapped beneath his chest. His head on her shoulder, in her hair. His deep breaths fluttering her tresses. Warm on her skin. Their sweat mingled. She breathed heavily, stroked his side when he suddenly tensed, thrust again and spurted inside her. He collapsed onto her. Moira moaned, shifted. Felt hot, sticky. But sated. Tried to close her legs but he moaned. Still inside her. Unable to move just yet as the lazy relaxation, release claimed him.


	6. Chapter 6

Adaptation6

John found his voice. "Fuck,"he muttered happily. "Moira." He swallowed, trying to speak without the hoarse rasp in his throat. "I know what you're thinking. I've never done that with any of my lots, er, some women. Well, not exactly that. Only you, Moira. I had to have all of you...every single sweetness I had to possess, to take...my Moira."

Moira was silent. Her body a throbbing echo of pleasure. Her throat raw with her loud whimpers, her screaming cries. Breathless astonishment and amazement. And embarrassment. She pushed at him, but he was a dead weight on her. Still in her. "John..." she whispered.

John couldn't move. He had been in sexual bliss. First by bringing her so completely, so utterly possessing her. Then taking her again. Her sodden opening, her tightness a sensual delight. Her muscles contracting around him, giving him endless rushes of pleasure. He shifted slightly. "A minute...maybe two, baby," he whispered. "Moira, you may have fucked the life out of me," he sighed happily.

She frowned. Shifted. Still feeling him owning her, possessing her. "John..." She pushed. Pushed but couldn't budge him. She squirmed, squirmed. Shoved.

"Okay, okay, hold on a second," he grumbled. Finally lifting, sliding out of her. He rolled onto his back, groaned at the sudden pain. "Geez, can't you wait?"

"Fuck you, John!" she snapped, rolled away from him, cursed as there were no blankets to cover her. She rested on her side, legs snapping shut. Still felt the echoes. The sodden, messy blankets beneath them. "Damn it, John!" She withdrew her hand, scooted off the mess. Furious, although thoroughly pleasured.

"Not yet, baby. Not for at least ten, maybe twenty," he jested, smirking. He touched his back. "Damn..." He reached for her, encountered the mess. "Sorry, baby. You were coming as hard as I was." He laughed. A sultry sound that quivered along her skin.

"Shut up!" she said, face hot. Flushed. "God I hate it when you do that to me!"

"You do? That's not what I heard." He smiled. Turned onto his side towards her. "Not what half the base heard I'm sure. You screamed like a wildcat in heat, Moira...at least you didn't claw me this time."

"I hate you, John," she muttered.

"No. You love me," he corrected. "You loved every minute of it. From the seduction to the multiple orgasms. You just won't admit it, that's all." He sighed, eyed her bare back. The sweep of disheveled hair. Her shapely rear. "I told you, baby, and you agreed. Mindless, mind-numbing sex. The best sex we've ever had, and that's saying something. Damn, you really, truly, and utterly fucked me, Moira. And I completely possessed you. All of you."

She frowned at his smug tone. His calm manner. His obvious enjoyment. Of both the sex and her discomfort over it.

John smirked. He scooted closer to her. Touched her arm. Her back. "Ah, baby, don't be like this. Don't pretend you wanted me to stop because I didn't hear you say that. Not once. As much as I am loving the view of your pert little ass you could at least–"

"Shut up! Why can't you just shut the hell up?" she flared.

He spooned against her suddenly. Body pressing against hers. Fingers sliding along her hip. He kissed her shoulder. "Easy, Moira, easy. You're making me hard again...can you feel that? Can you feel this?" His fingers slid to her crotch. Began a gentle caress, stroking, stroking. Long fingers easing between her legs.

She shifted, elbowed him but only gave him more access. She moaned, catching his hand but he wouldn't stop. "Why do you have to do that?" she complained. Even as her body reveled in it. Even as she was enjoying his renewed attentions. His caresses. Long fingers sliding, sliding. His body pressing against hers.

He kissed her shoulder, up her throat. Nibbling her earlobe. "Moira. Because I want to. Because you want me to. But you never say it which makes me want it more. Because I wanted to bring you slowly. Exquisitely. And myself. Because you are my Moira and I am your John."

"Because you are the sex guy," she pouted, somewhat calmed by his warmth. His voice. The soft, gentle kisses. The motion of his fingers.

He scooted back a little, giving her room to turn onto her back. "Yes, because I am the sex guy. Now give yourself to me, Moira."

"John?" She finally rolled onto her back, murmured as his fingers delved, delved along her. She squirmed, clutched his arms. He kissed her. A deep, probing kiss. Fingers thrusting into her now. Moira moaned into his mouth, flooding at his touch. She found her legs opening to him. Her body arching to meet his. "Oh John, John John."

"It's not enough, Moira, I want more and more," he murmured. Slid easily into her. Began a gentle rhythm, not as frantic as earlier. Slow, methodical. Extending the building pleasure.

He groaned. His back rippled with spasms but he didn't care, as he was bringing them again. Moving faster now, harder, rocking her, the bed, himself.

"Oh John! John, John, John!" she cried softly, clutching at him. Kissing his throat, his lips, sucking at his lower lip before his mouth moved free of hers.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he moaned, thrusting harder as she climaxed around him, with him. Her pleasure taking him to his quickly.

John freed her, rolled onto his back. Grimaced. He licked his lips. Groaned again as Moira slid on top of him, kissing him.

"Oh John, John..." she gushed, kissing him all over. Settling upon him.

He stroked her back. Kissed her brow. "I love you, Moira. I love nothing better than being entangled with you like this. On this bed."

"You love the sex, you mean," she accused.

He laughed. "Yeah, I love the sex. With you. Now off." He swatted her rear. She rolled off him.

"I'll be right back." He clambered off the bed. Snatched the bottle of pills from his pants and entered the bathroom. He stretched, grimaced at the jolt of pain along the deep scratches. He downed two pills, some water. Gargled and spat. Drank some water. He looked at himself in the mirror. Ran a hand through his disordered hair. Over his stubbled chin.

Moira appeared behind him, smirked. "Yes, John, you are gorgeous. Even you can't keep your hands off yourself." She laughed at his expression. A mocking scowl.

He turned to her. "You didn't have to cover up, sweetheart," he chastised. Tugging at the green nightshirt.

"Go on. Go lay on your stomach and I'll give you a massage. Does your back hurt?"

"A little," he admitted, downplaying it.

"Go. And put your shorts on, colonel. That ordnance is deadly."

He laughed, exited the bathroom.

Moira smiled. Drank some water. Cleaned up. Ran her fingers through her messy hair.

John smirked seeing the bed. The top blankets were bundled on the floor. He stretched out on his stomach after pulling on his shorts. Waited. "Sorry about the blankets, Moira."

"Hilarious, John." She slipped onto him. Touched his back, viewing the long gashes that were slowly healing. She began to massage his knotted muscles. "Relax, John. You shouldn't have been so...um, vigorous."

"Hmm...maybe...I couldn't help it, Moira. You sound angry."

"I am. Yes."

"Yes? You're mad at me?" he asked, incredulous. Turned his head, lifted to view her. But she pushed him back down. "Why? The blankets? I couldn't help that, sweetheart, nor could you."

"Yes, that was your fault too, John. Not to mention the, the rest,"she scolded.

"Rest? Geez, Moira, you're the only woman I know who would be pissed because her lover gave her the most intense orgasm, no, orgasms of her life. Am I right? It makes me wonder about your other...few men. The few men you've had in your bed. Apparently none of them ever went down on you. Apparently none of them ever brought you. Repeatedly. Every single time."

"No, John," she said, leaning to speak into his ear as her fingers plied, massaged. "You're right. You want to know, do you? All right. No man has ever done what you do to me, with me, for me. No man has ever given me the most intense orgasm, no, orgasms of my life that made me scream or cry out or claw the fucking bed. No man has ever possessed me so fully, so intimately, so thoroughly that I can still feel you inside of me even now. No man has ever brought me so repeatedly, over and over until I think I'll die of sheer pleasure and sexual bliss. Happy now?"

He grinned. Groaned, shifting under her. "Ecstatic."

"How nice for you," she commented, causing him to quietly laugh. She sighed. Kissed his cheek, his brow. Shifted on him slightly, making him moan. "I must say, colonel, you do have a fine, fine ass."

"Hilarious, Moira. The best bits are underneath me now."

"Is that any better, sweetie? Your back, I mean?" she asked, slipping off him.

"Yeah...thanks, sweetheart. Give me five...no ten...I'm so fucking tired." He rolled onto his side. "Here." He patted the space next to him. "Unless you're still mad."

"I am." But she laid next to him, snuggled close. Fingers caressing his chest. "John."

"Still?" he asked, sighed. Kissed her brow. "Let's catch a nap here. Then–"

"I still have to see Weir. She's going to be pissed, John," she warned. Tired. Unable to move. Relishing the closeness, the warmth of him.

"Don't you worry, baby. I'll handle it." He kissed her. "Moira...are you still mad?"

"Yes, John."

He sighed. "Women," he muttered.

John rolled. His back muscles jerked in pain. He grunted, opened his eyes. Groggy. He yawned, blinked. Wondered how long he had been asleep. Moira was nestled next to him, fast asleep. He smiled, ran his hand up her naked thigh, shoving the green nightshirt out of the way. He glanced at the clock, at his watch. "Crap." He gently nudged her. "Moira."

Moira muttered, snuggling against him. One arm sliding over his lap as he sat. "Ssh, John," she mumbled, still lost in slumber.

He kissed her cheek, her lips. "Ssh, Moira." He got off the bed, pulled on his clothes. Grimaced at the pain in his back. Grabbed the bottle of pills but it was empty. He ran a hand through his hair, glanced back to see Moira still asleep on the bed. Hair strewn across the pillows. Nightshirt rumpled up past her bare thighs. Knees bent, rear stuck out a little. He smiled, almost returned to the bed. Instead he quietly left.

Exiting her room he nearly crashed into Katie. She stared, wide-eyed, as he neatly stepped round her. "Oh! Colonel Sheppard, I was, I was just looking for Doctor O'Meara, er, Moira. The paleozoologist," she stammered.

John smiled. "Yes, I know. She's asleep right now. Give her ten or so. Excuse me."

"Asleep? Why on earth would she be asleep at this oh oh oh..." Katie's eyes widened in surprise and realization. Suddenly noticing his slightly disheveled appearance. She turned, watching him leave. Looked back at the door and laughed, moved on without disturbing her friend.

John strode across the control room. Took the stairs two at a time. Reached Elizabeth's office. He stepped inside, belatedly knocked on the opened door. "Got a minute?"

Elizabeth looked up from her data screen. Studied him. "Certainly. Are you sober?"

"Yes, for the most part." He took a seat. "Look, um, about last–"

"Do you know I've been trying to reach you for an hour now? And so has Rodney? Where is your earpiece, John?"

"My..." He touched his ear. Didn't feel the familiar equipment laced around it. Thought. Recalled Moira's fingers in his hair, pulling it off him. Throwing it to the floor as they were passionately entwined. "Uh...it's somewhere. I mean I dropped it. So...look, about last night," he resumed, looking down to hide his smile. To school his expression back to neutrality, even boredom. "Don't blame Moira. She was just–"

"Helping you all blow off steam, yes. Like last time. I understand, and as long as it's not a continuing thing I don't see a problem."

"You don't?" Surprise. Relief. "Well. Good. It's not a continuing thing. Just a way to deal with horrible, horrible stuff. These past few weeks have been...rough."

"Does that include the singing?" Elizabeth teased, smiling. But there was still some tension in her gaze, in her stance as she leaned forward, arms resting on the desk.

"Ugh...don't remind me," he sincerely stated. "If it's not that why did you want to see her?"

"Oh, it was about that, but that's not all. Where is she, by the way?"

John shifted on the chair. Feeling like he was facing the principal in school. "Busy. But she's on her way, I'm sure. Did you need me for anything important?"

"What if I did, John? Of course I could have used the PA or citywide but what it's quicker and sometimes more prudent to reach you via the earpiece." She eyed him steadily. "And about your recurring disappearing act. Your reluctance to leave the city at times. And taking a Jumper for a joyride under the ocean." He was silent. "Look, John, I'm not one to pry but you are the military commander of Atlantis."

"Yeah, I know." He considered, sighed. "Go ahead. I guess I blew the whole discretion agenda out of the water these past weeks. So go ahead." He sat back, lounging. Oddly not concerned anymore. Hands folded across his lap.

"How long has this been going on?" Elizabeth asked.

"Awhile," he admitted.

"I see. As I said, it's none of my business but if starts interfering with your duties or your decisions then it is."

"It won't."

"You don't want to make her a member of your team?" she tested.

"No. She's invaluable on Major Lorne's team. And besides, that would be against regulations," he stated. "Do I need to cite the article and rule number?"

"That won't be necessary," she said with a quick smile. "I just want to be certain that your decisions and actions are not compromised by your–"

"Doctor Weir, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Moira rushed into the room, halted abruptly seeing John in a chair. She had awoken alone on her bed. Hastily dressed and made herself presentable. All but ran to the office and now stood, startled.

"I explained you were busy, Moira," John noted, sounding bored. But there was a sparkle in his brilliant green eyes as he briefly met her gaze. A quick smile on his lips.

"Close the door, please, Moira, and take a seat."

Moira shut the door. Took the chair next to John's. She glanced at him. He shrugged. She looked back at Elizabeth. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. If this is about last night it wasn't John's fault. Or Evan's or Carson's or Rodney's. I'm sorry. We got a little carried away, I guess. Sometimes the boys, er, the men need to vent now and then. And the best way for them to do that is to relax with a few beers. It helps them talk, otherwise they wouldn't say a word about what is troubling them, their emotions, their feelings and they need to do that sometimes instead of bottling it all up inside." She glanced at John who was watching her. Amusement on his handsome face.

"And singing?" Elizabeth quirked a brow as Moira looked back at her.

Moira shrugged. "And singing. We won't make a habit of it. Of the singing and the rest, I mean. The drunken, um, therapy." She glanced at John, gave him a stern look as he smirked.

"See that you don't. I don't quite understand the effect you have on my military commander, my chief scientist, your team leader, and my chief medical officer but if it allows them to blow off steam once in a while I see no harm."

"It's not me, it's the beer," Moira argued. "But no, it won't happen again. Was there something else?" she asked, feeling John tense beside her.

"Yes, there is. How long has this been going on?"

"I told you we only had this...venting session twice. Once before after the elimination of the zombie Wraith, and then last night. We're not making a habit of it or anything."

"No, I meant how long have you been seeing John?" she tested.

"What?" Moira looked at John who shrugged. She looked at Elizabeth. Stood. "I'm sorry about the other night, Doctor Weir. Rest assured it won't happen again. As for my personal relationship with Colonel Sheppard that is none of your business."

"I know that, but since it appears to be impacting his performance of–"

"Excuse me? Doctor Weir, again, it is none of your business. As for Colonel Sheppard's performance let me assure you he has never been in finer form." Hearing a noise from John she ignored it, continued. Voice serious. "He has never been remiss in any of his duties. As always his performance is completely professional if not always by the book. He regards his duties to this city and its personnel as his number one priority."

"I'm glad to hear it, Moira," Elizabeth said, amused and impressed. She glanced at John who was watching Moira. A soft smile on his face.

"Rest assured in the future nothing will be remiss or unorthodox," Moira continued. She glanced at John who was beginning to frown. She looked at Elizabeth. "But completely by the book and professional. Nothing further will divert him from his duties."

"Moira," John said, half rising to his feet as he sensed something else going on between the two women. Something he felt he wouldn't like.

"If you'll excuse me I have work to do." Moira headed for the door, turned back. Anger flashing in her brown eyes that made John stare, feel a stirring in his pants. "And if you were going to tell me about his lots of women, don't. Because I already know about them, so spare me the details."

"Some! Some women. Why does everyone say that?" John grumbled. "Moira!" But she was gone, striding out of the office. Ponytail swinging in tandem with her hips, her rear.

"Well, that's settled, then. John, I think that Rodney needs your help with the Jumper repairs."

John stood. "What the hell just happened?"

"Nothing, John. We understood each other perfectly."

"Care to clue me in, then? I'm not losing her, Elizabeth. I won't."

"I'm not asking you to, John–"

"Then what the hell was that? No," he raised a hand, forestalling her, "I'll find out myself." He left, nearly knocking Carson down as the doctor had just reached the office. "Sorry, doc."

"John!" Elizabeth sighed, gestured for Carson to enter. "Carson, did you–"

"Elizabeth, what's wrong with John this morning? Let me guess...a hangover? I've already treated Rodney and Evan...I'm fine, however. These lads do not know how to–"

"No. Did you know about them? John and Moira?"

"Oh." Carson took a seat. "Aye."

"You did? How long have they been–"

"Months now. Why? It's none of my business, nor yours."

"I know that! I just...that explains some of his behavior, is all. His disappearing for hours. And that trip under the ocean...I mean...his absence at certain times. He's never been so negligent before, is all. So pre-occupied."

"Aye. So? He's here if there's a crisis or if there's a mission, right? As far as I can tell he hasn't been derelict in his duties. Give the man a break, Elizabeth. He is happy."

"Yes...I noticed that too. Everyone has."

"Good. About bloody time, if you ask me. This is no fling, Elizabeth. He's quite serious about her, if he'd only bloody realize it. And she is about him." Carson was solemn. Felt quite protective about the couple.

"Well, if you say so, but I'm sure it's just another fling," Elizabeth sighed.

"No. It's not, so just leave them be," Carson corrected.


	7. Chapter 7

Adaptation7

John strode to the bio lab. His boots stomping on the floor. Each step reverberating with his growing anger. He snapped at a few lounging marines who straightened immediately. He briskly entered the lab, glared round at the other scientists working. Moira was standing near a row of vials but was staring into space. Ignoring the other biologists he walked to her. Touched her shoulder. "Moira."

She started, turned, her hand hitting the vials. They fell one by one in a domino effect. "Damn. Thanks, John," she muttered. She set the vials upright, one by one, making certain the contents were still intact.

"Sorry. I have to talk to you."

"Okay. I'll see you at dinner," she dismissed.

"No. Now."

"We can't, John." She finished, set her hand on the table. Still not looking at him. Feeling how close he was. "Please. Go."

"No. I need to talk to you, Moira. Now." His hand was still on her shoulder and he gently caressed.

"No, John. Not now. Go."

"Moira...are you breaking up with me?" he asked, bewildered by her attitude.

"No!" She met his gaze, saw he was serious. Troubled. Angry. "Of course not, John," she amended, voice soft. "Now go–"

He caught her arm, pulled her from the lab. "Then come with me now, Moira. I'm not taking no for an answer."

"John! John!" she protested, but quickened her steps as he stride rapidly increased. "Damn it, John, slow down, will you? John!"

He stopped suddenly. So suddenly she crashed into him. Drew back as he turned. "Sorry, Moira. I don't understand. Moira, if you're not breaking up with me what are you doing?"

She smiled, but freed her hand. Considered. "Here." She led him into a side lab. It was small. Crowded with supplies. Shelves crammed with crates and bottles. She closed the door, turned to him. Flung herself into his arms and kissed him. "Oh sweetie!"

He pulled her into his arms, kissing her. "Moira, what the hell?"

"No, John. I'm sorry, I..." She caught his hands, freeing herself. "I got it, okay?"

"Got what?" he asked, losing patience.

"It's okay. I understand. You were right. About discretion. I'm sorry, I didn't see it. I just assumed it was because of your lots some women, but it wasn't." She turned away to stare at the crates. "We have to be discreet. Extra discreet from now on. No more spontaneity. No more, um, afternoon, or morning delights. I get it, okay? Despite what you, you did this morning. You...anyway, I'm still mad about that. And now this...okay, I get it now. Just go about your day and I'll go about mine. And we can figure out a time to be together. Discreetly." She sighed. "I'm sorry, John. You were better at discretion than I ever was. You know I tend to be rather emotional when it comes to, to you. And the way you make me feel. The things you make me feel." She turned back to him. He was staring at her, still angry. "What? Look, I can't help the way I feel about you! The way I react to you. The way I want to spend time with you. Touch you. Talk to you. Be with you, and yes, I probably would interfere with your job and your duties here so just give me a break and I'll dial it down, as Evan would say."

He stepped to her. So close she backed up and hit the shelves behind her. He touched her cheek. Her hair. "I have no idea what you were going on about, Moira. I don't understand why you are angry with me. I don't understand what happened between you and Elizabeth. I would never ask you to dial it down. I don't want you to change a thing. Not a single thing between us. I want you. That's all. Just you."

"But you heard–"

"No. Listen to me, Moira. I screwed the discretion agenda, not you. I let things get out of control. I can't help that now, nor would I want to. If it was up to me we would spend days and nights together. I'm not giving up our time together. Not any of it. Not our, what did you say? Our afternoon and morning delights. I'm sick of it, Moira. I've had enough of this pretending. You were right. I was just too blind to see, is all. I'm through."

"Through?" she asked, touching his chest. "I...I don't understand."

"Through." He smiled. "Through with pretending I don't watch you when you enter a room. That I'm not thinking of you when you're not near me. That I'm not anticipating when we can be alone together. Or have some verbal flirtations in passing. I want all of it, Moira. Nothing less."

She smiled, relieved. But shook her head. "John, we have to be–"

"Discreet? Why? We certainly weren't this morning. Hell, everyone knows by now that we're seeing each other. Anyone passing by your room, or on occasion mine knows it. Why pretend otherwise?"

"You...you wanted it that way, remember? And now we have to be discreet because of this morning!"

"Why? I'm not following you. Because of Elizabeth? Oh...my earpiece. It's somewhere in your room or your–"

"Here." She pulled it from her pocket, placed it into his hand. "Take it. We have to go."

"Discreet? Like having this conversation in a closet? Fuck that." He kissed her, pulling her into his arms. Hands roaming along her body. "As long as we're in here we may as well indulge in some illicit sex."

"John!" She pulled back. "This is exactly what we can't do! Don't you see? This, this intense sexual attraction between us has to be contained, has to be–"

"Indulged. Repeatedly. I'm not giving up any of that, baby, you better believe it. Do you think we can? Fuck this–" he repeated, moving to kiss her again but she pushed him back.

"John! You're not listening to me! I'm sorry, okay! I'm sorry I didn't listen to you in the first place but you didn't exactly explain it to me now did you? And then–"

"Stop apologizing to me, Moira! Damn it! I don't want that! I tried to explain it to you but you wouldn't listen now, would you? You know I'm not good at his kind of thing, damn it! I'm the sex guy, okay? And if you can't handle that, baby, you better tell me now."

"Stop calling me that! And you better learn to express yourself better, colonel! Although I guess you did just that, didn't you! Now move!" She shoved past him. Opened the door.

"What? What the hell does that mean? Moira! Moira!" He followed her out of the closet, grabbing her arm to spin her gently round to him. "Why are you mad at me? What the hell did I do? Well? You should be happy we don't have to be discreet any–"

"Of course we do, John! Didn't you hear a word of what Weir said? I've got work to do, colonel! We can table this for later." She strode away from him.

"Fine! We will, baby!" he deliberately provoked. "And just so you know we will be indulging in as many delights as we want! At any time, Moira! Any time!"

"Shut up, John!" she called over her shoulder. Angry. Frustrated.

"Any fucking time!" he retorted. Sighed. Cursing to himself he stomped down the hallway.

************************************************************************

John strode into the infirmary. Lingered. Waiting while Carson finished with an intern. He glanced round at the empty beds. The metal shelves full of equipment. Boxes. The computer screens on the tables. "Carson." He neared, held out the empty pill bottle. "Can I get a refill?"

Carson frowned. "Already? You shouldn't need one, John. What did you do? Didn't you rest last night?"

"Not exactly." John just smiled.

Carson shook his head. "Fine." He took the empty bottle. Crossed to a locked cabinet and proceeded to fill it. "Four more and that is all. Take two now, and two tonight. If you don't have enough sense to heed my advice and rest then I can't help you."

"Carson, I did. For the most part. Rest, I mean. But Moira–"

"Now don't you go blaming her," Carson scolded. Gestured. "Shoo. Go away. And I'm serious, John. Take it easy. No strenuous activity. And yes, that includes vigorous sex."

John frowned. "Well, that's not likely to happen any time soon," he grumbled. Stood, watching Carson as he moved to a table. Checked some data on the screen. He studied it. Made a note on a piece of paper. John neared. Drummed his fingers on the table. Nearly knocked over a vial but quickly righted it. He sighed. Sighed again, loudly.

Carson shook his head. Turned to John. "For God's sake, man, spit it out or go! What is it now?"

John sheepishly shrugged. Glanced round. "Moira."

"Of course," Carson sighed. Sat in the chair. Gestured but John remained standing.

"She...she's mad at me and won't tell me why. I don't know what to do, Carson! That woman drives me crazy! I don't understand her! After we had the most amazing...I gave her the best fucking orgasm of her life and she's all pissed at me! And then the thing with Weir and discretion but we're over that now, but oh no, she's not! She insists we have to be discreet when now I don't give a damn! What is with her? Why is she mad at me?"

Carson stared, surprised at the sudden flow of words from the normally taciturn colonel. "Have you tried talking to her?"

"Yes! And she just clams up, yells at me, won't say a damn thing! Look, it's not like I can run to a store and buy her some flowers or candy or something," he complained. Looking everywhere but at Carson and his assessing stare.

"Flowers would be nice," Carson suggested.

"So what am I to do?"

"Talk to her. Better yet, listen."

"To what? She won't tell me anything! Or else she snaps at me and I still don't know why!"

Carson smiled. "You are not very good at this at all, are you, John? Go work on your ship. Start with some flowers from the botany lab. Then talk to her. More importantly listen to her, John. If you listen to her she will tell you."

"I tried! But she–"

"Did you now? Or did you snap at her like you are at me? Go fix your ship, John. Give her some space, some time. Go!" As John left Carson sighed. "When did I become the couples therapist?" he muttered.

*************************************************************************

Moira ate her lunch, trying to ignore the women staring at her. The men's speculative glances. Only the marines present seemed to be normal, except for an exaggerated deference that quickly got on her nerves. She looked up as Evan joined her, sitting across from her. "Hey, Evan."

"Hey, Moira." He smiled. "Are you all right?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I really don't know anymore, Evan. It's been a rough couple of days."

He nodded. "Not only for you."

"What?"

"I don't know what happened.. This morning Colonel Sheppard was in the best mood I've ever seen him in. Now he's in a very, very bad mood. This morning I could have gotten three months of vacation time and a pay hike but now I'll be lucky if he doesn't demote me back to captain and restrict me to the base."

"Oh." Moira shrugged. "Sorry. I mean, I don't know what to say." She eyed her plate.

"I don't need to know the particulars, Moira. Unless you need someone to talk to, that is. I just need your help. I need you to talk to him. He'll listen to you."

She shook her head. "Since when? I doubt he'll even want to see me."

Evan smiled. "Oh, he will want to see you, and to listen to you. Especially after..." he caught himself.

Her gaze flew up to him. "What? After what? Damn it, you too! Damn it!" She slammed her open palm on the table. The trays jumped.

"Have you had any trouble, Moira? I mean from the marines? You can tell me. Or tell Sheppard."

"No. I mean...they're the only ones who are not, not...they've been nice. Too nice. Overly nice. Damn it. Polite. Excessively polite. I had three offer to carry my damn tray to this table!" she fumed, but glared as amusement tugged at Evan's otherwise serious expression. "It's not funny, Evan! Why are they acting like that?"

"Sorry." He contained his mirth. "Because, Moira. Isn't it obvious? You think they want to risk the wrath of Colonel Sheppard? One word, one look, one laugh and believe me it won't be pretty. Especially with the mood he's in now."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that...like that...I...shit." She sighed. "If he hadn't have done..." She broke off before she revealed any of their intense intimacy. The vibrant sex. The things he had done with her, to her.

"So, will you?"

"Will I?" she asked, breaking from the memories.

"Talk to him, please. For me?"

She smiled at his distress. "Okay. For you, Evan. But you ow me big time. I don't like to face the wrath of Sheppard either."

Evan laughed. "He'll never be that angry with you, Moira. At least not for long. I'll wait here while you face the dragon in his lair."

She laughed. "How very chivalrous of you, Evan. Where?"

"Jumper bay. Good luck."

She stood. "I'm going to need it."

*********************************************************************

"No! God dammit, no!" John swore, slammed his hand on the ship's console. The array of lights flared to life. Power hummed, then fizzled. "Let me try it again! If this interface doesn't work we're scrapping the whole fucking thing!" He moved to the front of the ship.

"Oh, that's a good idea, John! Who needs another working Jumper anyway, right? I mean we have hundreds of them, don't we? Oh wait, we don't! Try it now!" Rodney flipped switches, crystals. "Where the hell is Lorne?" he muttered.

"Ah! Finally! Powering up. Basic systems are online. Let me test the secondary systems." He still sounded angry.

"Don't burn them out! You'll still need a test run! Just in the atmosphere, though! It can't fly into outer space yet, and the drive pods are still iffy. And no trips through the Stargate yet. It's not stable enough to maintain the velocity for wormhole travel. John! Are you listening to me?

Fine! Fly the thing into the sun, why don't you? Oh, thank God!" Rodney exited the Jumper, spotting Moira. "Moira!" He strode to her. "What is his problem? He's been like Jekyll and Hyde today!"

Moira shrugged. "I don't know, Rodney. Should I–"

"Yes, yes, you should!" Rodney all but pushed her up the ramp into the vehicle. "You most definitely should! Talk to him, please. I'll be eating a late, late lunch while you make him see reason!"

"Rodney!" John barked. "Close that fucking panel, would you? How can I test the secondary systems if the crystal alignment is hanging out to dry? Rodney!"

Moira quickly moved to the panel, pushed the crystals into it and shut it. Watched as John leaned over the console. Fiddling with the panels. His black shirt rode up, revealing a line of bare flesh. The waistband of his purple boxer shorts. The gray pants hugged his rear.

"Shit! There!" He ducked out from the panel, punched buttons. "There! What took you so long?" He squatted, leaned back under it now.

Moira smirked, couldn't help it. "Sorry, colonel. I was distracted by the sight of that fine, fine six of yours."

"Ow!" John had hit his head on the console, hearing her. He ducked out, stood. Glared. "Oh, look who it is? Well, I don't want to talk to you, Moira. So go away." He turned to flip more switches. The ship hummed with power at his touch.

"Don't be such an ass, John," she chastised.

"If that's your way to sweet talk me you need to do better, Moira. Where the hell is McKay?"

"You chased him away with your irascible behavior," she noted.

"Funny, that, coming from you. Mad at me for no good reason. Twisting things around like it's my fault. Wanting to be discreet when we don't have to be anymore," he muttered.

She sighed. "John, we do. I just needed some time. All right? None of this bothers you but it bothers me."

"What? What bothers you?" He met her gaze. Suddenly moved to her, past her. Closed the hatch. Stepped back to the cockpit. Tapped the console. "This is Sheppard. Jumper one requesting clearance. I'm taking her for a spin to see if she's in working order." He sat in the pilot's seat. Powered up the ship again. Brought the HUD to view all systems. "Well?" he snapped. "Get that pert little ass up here, Moira! Now!"

She smiled, moved to sit in the co-pilot's seat as the ship lifted off the ground. Lifted. Emerged from the city and flew smoothly over the spires.

John checked the controls. "All systems go. I'm heading for the mainland. Checking all primary systems." He switched off the comm. Met her gaze. "Well?"

"Well what?"

He scowled. "Fine." He piloted the ship into a deep dive. Moira grabbed the seat.

"John?"

"Checking deceleration." He slowed, hovered. "Inertial dampeners are good. Online." He zoomed over the water towards the mainland. Rising slowly. "No dragging, that's good."

Moira hesitated. "John...there's no need for you to be upset."

"Oh? Are you still mad at me?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. "Fine." He zoomed faster, flying up suddenly. Swerving at an angle. "Maneuvering at one hundred percent, although the left drive pod is a bit heavy." He swerved the other way, heading straight for the trees. Veered up at the last second. Moira rocked back in her seat.

"John!"

"Testing the ship, sweetheart. Just like you are testing me. Am I right?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" she said, as they leveled out. Flew at a more leisurely pace. "John, you really don't know why I am mad at you?"

"Yeah, I know, I'm just pretending to be pissed because it's so much fun," he sarcastically noted. "Of course I don't know! I give you the most amazing sex ever and you–"

"It's not that! Not now...just next time...if you are going down like, like that...let me know."

He smiled. "Fine. It's more fun not to, but fine." His fingers caressed the controls. "Let's try the atmosphere. I know Rodney argued against it, but I think this baby can handle it." He accelerated, going higher, higher into the blue sky. "I'm not apologizing for it, Moira. For the sex. For the sweet, slow seduction. For going down on you. That intently. For bringing you over and over. For the sex afterwards. For all of it. I had to...um...had to. Have you that way."

"Okay, John. I'm not asking you to apologize for, for that," she said warmly, amused at his defensive tone. "I think I even understand why you had to, um have me. That way."

"Oh. Good, then." He relaxed as they broke atmosphere. Moira watched the sky darken. The stars emerge. Stared at the planet of mostly water beneath them. He checked the HUD. "So far so good. But that drive pod is not entirely set yet. We can't stay up here too long." He licked his lips, met her gaze. "So? What then?"

"I'm mad at you for what you did. What you did very deliberately."

"Explain," he said. Descending back towards the planet. Saw her blush. "Well?"

"I...you...you deliberately made me..."

"Made you what, exactly? Have the orgasm of your life? Twice? Most women would be on their knees thanking me for that," he observed wryly.

"I'm sure most have been," she dourly noted. "You deliberately made me...come, that way. I tried, I tried to be quiet...but you...to be quieter but I couldn't. Couldn't hold it in anymore than you could but you weren't even trying! You groaned like your life depended on it!" she accused. "You made me cry out so loudly, John! So out of control! So loudly, repeatedly that half the fucking base probably heard me! Heard you! When I tried to stop, to muffle it you went at me even harder. Giving me such excruciating pleasure I had to be that, that, that loud."

John's hands tightened on the controls. He was doing everything he could not to laugh, not to grin. Schooling his expression into neutral. Trying not to reveal his amusement. His pride. His body was reacting but he fought that too. He chanced a glance at Moira. Saw the blush on her troubled face. Brown eyes serious, solemn. He wanted her. Wanted her badly but looked out the viewport as they dropped gently towards the mainland.

Moira eyed him, scowled. "Go ahead! This is why I didn't want to tell you! Go ahead, before you explode! Get it out of your system, John! Make your snarky, sexual comments and your arrogant boasts! Go ahead! Do it!"

John exploded into laughter, unable to contain it. "Oh Moira! My Moira!" he enthused. "My lovely, lovely, delicious Moira!" He laughed heartily. "I'm sorry, sweetheart...but damn! That was the problem? That's why you are mad at me? That mouth of yours is making me so hard right now I can barely–"

"John!" She glared at the trees as they skimmed over them.

"Sorry, sorry...oh Moira," he sighed happily. Relieved. Amused. Aroused.

"Bastard," she muttered. She glanced at him. His handsome face was full of merriment. Affection. A grin curving his lips.

"Oh baby..." he wooed, voice lowering to a husky drawl that shivered along her skin. He tapped the comm. "This is Sheppard. We're incoming. Clear the bay."

"Yes, sir. How's she handling?" came Evan's voice over the unit.

"Like a dream, major." John glanced at Moira. "She was a little rough, rocky at first but now she's smooth as silk and purrs under my hands." He switched off the comm. "Isn't that right, Moira?" She ignored him. He smiled. "You're absolutely right."

She met his gaze. "About you being a bastard?"

He laughed. "No, sweetheart. About my deliberately making you come so fast, so hard, so intensely you had to scream and make all of those deliciously loud passionate sounds."

Moira shifted, uncomfortable. She stared at the city spires as they came into view. Closer. Closer. Sunlight glinting off the towers. Sparkling brightly on the ocean waves. "Why?" He was silent, guiding the ship into the city. "John?"

"Just a second, Moira. Let me do this first." He smiled, but his tone was oddly serious. "I can only handle one of you at a time."


	8. Chapter 8

Adaptation8

Moira watched the city grow closer, closer. She frowned. "John? Are you going to answer me, or is this some way to avoid discussing this?"

John lowered the ship through the open hatch. Into the Jumper bay. He landed smoothly. Powered down the systems. "Just so you know I didn't exaggerate my groaning," he informed, checking the readouts again. "Not that much. You had me painfully aroused. I thought I'd never get deep enough, or come quick enough so I couldn't stop."

"Why?" she repeated softly. Watching him as he leaned over to check the control panel. The yellow glow of the instrument panel lent a golden sheen to his face, to his body. "Why did you deliberately–"

"Because. Because it pisses me off when people pry into my private life. Into our private life. Especially into our sex life. Our amazing, wonderful, exuberant sex. If they want to know if you're fucking me or I'm fucking you so be it. Not just sex but mind-numbing sex. Didn't you tell that woman unimaginably good sex? Well, then. I'm sick of all of this bullshit and it ends now. Today. Let them hear how we're fucking each other's brains out, I don't care. As long as they leave us the hell alone and as long as no one says a word to you. Or upsets you." He sighed. Straightened and met her wide-eyed gaze. "What? I suppose you're still mad at me, Moira? It can't be helped. I am sorry if I did embarrass you, or make things awkward for you. I forget how sensitive you are about this kind of stuff. But it had to be done. And as for discretion...screw it."

Moira didn't know what to say. Startled by his outpouring. Amazed. Sympathetic. Enamored. She watched him stand, move to the back of the ship. Checking panels again but really waiting for her response. For any response. She stood, moved to him. Touched his back. "Um...John?

You feel that, that strongly? About it. About, about us?"

"Yes." He turned to her. His arms slid round her, pulling her against him. His back hit the wall, causing a jolt of pain but he didn't care. Entwining his mouth with hers. A long, slow, deep kiss. Tongue searching, seeking. His hands sliding down to grope her rear, to squeeze.

Moira pulled back, practically melting into his arms, against his long, lean body. Breath taken away by the kiss. The passion pulsing between them. "John..."

He smiled. "Hmm...baby...are you still mad at me?"

She smiled. "No, sweetie."

"About time, Moira," he chastised. He kissed her again, freed her to open the hatch. He led her out of the ship.

"Is everything all right, sir?" Evan asked, looking from one to the other.

"Yes, major. Everything's fine." John checked his watch. "About dinnertime, isn't it? I've got to recheck the systems, try to nail down that drive pod. Then get cleaned up. I'll see you in the cafeteria, Moira...in, say, an hour?"

She smiled. "Yes, John. An hour." She smirked as Evan mouthed thank you. Nodded and touched his arm in passing.

Moira entered her room, stared. A bouquet of flowers lay on her bed. Blue and purple irises. In their midst a single red rose bloomed. She smiled, neared. Lifted them to smell the sweet fragrances. She sat on the bed, emotions centering on John.

************************************************************************

John strolled into the cafeteria. Grabbed a tray and filled it. Joined Carson at a table. "Hey, doc.

I...I...um...that is to say I did what you...anyway...um..thanks..."

Carson smiled. "You're welcome."

"Ah, I should have known!" Moira teased, joining them. She sat next to John as he scooted over, giving her room. "Carson!" she gushed, touching his hand. "Thank you. The flowers were a lovely, romantic touch. The perfect arrangement. And the rose...oh Carson, your taste is exquisite! I know it's a cliche but I am quite partial to roses."

"Hey!" John complained. "I gave you those flowers, Moira. I put them on your bed to surprise you."

She glanced at him. "Oh? Well, thank you for delivering them, John. But I know Carson was really behind it all." She laughed as Carson did.

"Hilarious, Moira," John scolded, taking her hand off Carson's. "He may have given me the idea but I followed up on the execution. And the rose was my idea. Mine. You see? That is the last romantic gesture you are getting from me. It always goes wrong."

"Sorry, John," she comforted. Carson laughed.

"I'm serious, Moira. No more. Remember that I am the sex–"

"Guy, got it, colonel." She elbowed him. They laughed. "Don't be so sensitive! Pretend you didn't hear that, Carson."

"Hear what? I'll leave you to it, then. And mind, no vigorous activity, John. I'm serious now. And I am going to start charging for my counseling services." They laughed as he left.

Moira glanced at John. "You need to be...um...careful. Tonight."

He met her gaze, smiled. "Yes. Afraid so. But I can think of–"

"I'm sure you can think of several things, John. No." She considered. "No doubt my bed would be more comfortable. For your back, I mean."

"No doubt," he agreed.

"Well, then...for your back, of course."

"Of course," he agreed.

"Mine. In an hour. I've got work to finish." She leaned close, whispered, "Gentle sex, John. I will teach you a thing or two, sweetie."

"I can't wait, baby. But stop, just stop calling me sweetie."

"Sweetie," she teased, smiled at his pained expression. She stood. "One hour, sweetie."

"Hilarious, Moira," he rejoined.

**********************************************************************

John strolled to her room an hour later. Ran his knuckles along the door in an elongated knock. He smiled as she opened it. "Colonel Lover boy reporting for duty, doctor."

She laughed, pulled him into the room. Closed the door. "Very good, soldier. Did you take your pills, Colonel Lover boy?"

"Lorne is so going to regret that," he promised. "And yes, doctor." He eyed the bed. The blankets folded back invitingly. He moved to it. Sat. Laid back and scooted up to the pillows. Sighed. "Ah...fuck. I'm only seeing you because of this bed, Moira."

"So I figured, John," she retorted, smiling.

"Just give me a few minutes here and–"

"No, John. You heard Carson. No sex."

"What? He said no vigorous activity."

"Yes, and we both know for you that means sex, now doesn't it, sweetie?" she teased. Sat close to him and playfully ran her fingers up his thigh.

"Yeah. Moira....tell me about this gentle sex you whispered in my ear. Or was that just a way to get me into your bed?"

She laughed. "It worked, didn't it?" He laughed. She leaned close, kissed him. "You know, John, with you sex is nearly always va-va-va voom."

He laughed. "Full throttle, baby. And nearly so, yeah."

"I'm not complaining. But let me show you something."

"Please do." His gaze wandered over her body, expectant. But instead of undressing she just sat there, considering. "Well?"

"We don't want to hurt your back. We should refrain from any sex." She sighed. "But damn it, John, I want you."

He smiled, touched her thigh. "I want you, Moira. I've wanted you since the Jumper."

"Close your eyes."

"What? Ooh, Moira, is this going to be kinky?" he teased. Grinned. "Please say yes."

"Shut up, John. Close your eyes. Relax. Just feel. No," she pushed his hands away, down onto the bed. "No touching. Close your eyes and just feel."

He frowned. But closed his eyes. "Okay, Moira. Do I need a safe word? Please say yes. Hey, are you going to tie me up?"

"Maybe..."she teased. Kissed him. Pushed his hands back again as they slid up to cup her breasts. "No." She kissed him again, slow, teasing kisses. Savoring his lips. The taste of him. Darting her tongue across his cheek. Along his jaw. Up to his ear to circle, circle and gently nibble until he groaned softly. Down his throat.

"Should I take off my–"

"No. Just relax. Feel," she reiterated, straddling him.

He opened his eyes, feeling her on him. "Shouldn't you be naked by now?"

"John! Close your eyes, soldier! Hush."

He laughed. Sighed. Closed his eyes. "Fine. But I love looking at you, Moira."

She leaned down. Whispered in his ear, "Ooh, John, do you like to watch? How kinky."

He chuckled. She kissed him. Ran light kisses down his throat. He shifted under her, reacting. Moaned softly. She slid up his shirt. Caressing his chest, his waist. The smooth, lean muscles. The hair teasingly coarse, inviting her fingers to roam, to play. She ran her mouth across. Down. Tongue gliding along the purple waistband of his shorts. "Ah...Moira...go on, sweetheart. Take me in and–"

"Hush, sweetie." She undid his belt. His pants. Unzipped. Opened the material to reveal the purple boxers. Smirked.

"No comments," he said, as if sensing her amusement, her affection. "Ah...finally, Moira! I've always wanted you to–" But she withdrew her hand, her mouth.

"Close your eyes and keep quiet, would you?" she instructed. "Do I have to blindfold you?"

He laughed. "Now who is kinky?" He closed his eyes.

She smiled. Kissed his hand, taking it into hers. Slid his forefinger into her mouth and gently sucked to make him groan. Rocking gently on him now. She slipped his hand under her shirt. Into her bra. His fingers took over, caressing and kneading. Molding her breast against his palm as the nipple hardened. He moved as she guided his hand down her waist. To her pants.

"Oh yes...the promised land," he teased, but frowned as she pushed his hand away. "Damn."

She leaned close, kissing him. "Relax, John. Keep your eyes closed and enjoy the ride, colonel."

"As ordered, baby." He moaned, moving under her. Tasting her mouth as it captured his again. Feeling her body rocking on his. Her loose hair tickling his skin as it fell around him. He heard a zipper and smiled. Peeked to see her undoing her pants.

She stopped. Frowned. "John."

"Sorry, baby, but I do like to watch." He smirked at her expression. Closed his eyes.

She sighed, kissed him again. "You are not very good at following orders, soldier. Just relax and enjoy the ride."

"Yes, ma'am," he teased. "I'm already at half salute, baby."

She laughed. "Yes, colonel, I did notice that." She lifted to pull off her pants. To remove her panties. She kissed him again. A long, slow kiss full of passion and promise. She slid her hand into his pants to rub. To caress.

He sighed happily, moving. Erection growing harder at her touch. "Ah...that feels so good," he murmured. He groaned as she ran her mouth along his waist. Tugging at the shorts. Undoing them slowly. "Moira...please...oh baby..."

"Please what, John? My oh my, soldier..." she teased, freeing him. "No, John, don't move! No hands!" She gently pushed him back onto the bed. She kissed him again, lifting as her own arousal spiraled. Flooded in response to his.

"Please, Moira...or I will come all over the bed," he warned. Voice hoarse. Forcing himself to keep his eyes closed. Feeling her body on his. The brush of her lips along his waist again. The scent of her alluring, arousing.

"Well, we can't have that again, John." She freed him from the shorts. Slid over him and took him into her. Began a gentle rhythm. "You can open your eyes now."

He did so, smiled. Frowned. "I was hoping you'd be completely naked, baby." He caught her hips, gently supporting her as she rose and fell. Up and down. Slowly but effectively making him harder, harder. Bringing them closer, closer.

Moira's hands caught his at her hips as she increased the momentum. She pressed her lips together but noises still escaped as she spiraled, spiraled. Flooding desire and pleasure building, building. Feeling every inch of him as she slid along the length of him. Over and over.

"Let it go, sweetheart. I want to hear you. I need to hear you," he encouraged, groaning quietly. Moving with her to aid her, to bring her. To go deeper. Faster. Harder.

Moira opened her lips to release heavy, gasping breaths. Soft moans and inarticulate whimpers. She slowed, sped up. Slowed, sped up. Increasing friction and prolonging the moment.

John moved with her. Resisting the urge to thrust up into her. Letting her direct the pace, the momentum. Resisting the urge to fling her under him and thrust deep inside her. He watched her ride him. Loose, long hair swirling around her. Rosy lips parted. Hard nipples puckering the t-shirt which enclosed her breasts. He listened to her quickening moans. Her breathless calls of his name. Felt her body tightening over him, around him. Easing him in further, faster.

Suddenly she tensed. Moved faster, plunging. Grinding. John's hands tightened on hers as he groaned. Her name escaping his lips in a satisfied growl as he came. Spurting up, up. She clutched, breathing deeply. A crescendo of his name escaping her lips now as she brought herself. Crashing into orgasms that tumbled one after the other. Arching, leaning back to take him as far as she could.

He sat, grabbing her rear and thrust, thrust to fill her. To bring her again as he finished coming hard in her. He kissed her. Tongue thrusting into her mouth. He shuddered. Thrust. Fell back to pull her awkwardly with him. He slipped out of her. She fell upon him. Sprawled, out of breath.

"John..."

"Moira...that was lovely...very lovely...and gentle. But not too gentle."

"Did I hurt you?" she asked, concerned. He laughed.

"No. Not at all. My Moira. Now we can–"

"No." She kissed him. Slid off him. "No more sex, John. Rest."

"But I want to–"

"No." She kissed him again. "Roll onto your stomach. I'll give you a massage."

"Can I at least take off my shoes?"

She laughed. "Oh. Sorry!" She scooted off the bed, pulling her shirt down. Sat with her back to him. Removed his shoes. His socks.

"Thank you." She leaned over to remove hers. "Ah. Thank you, baby...so sweet..."

"Shut up, John," she fondly chastised. Straightened. Debated. Stood and moved to the dresser.

John smiled, watching. "Damn, Moira. You do have the finest ass in Atlantis. I swear." She ignored him, wriggled into a pair of panties. "Oh no, no! You didn't have to do that!" he protested. But she pulled off her shirt. Then the bra. "Ah. But there are compensations," he teased. Frowned as she pulled on a nightshirt. "No, no! You could have been naked, baby."

She laughed at his petulant tone. "Sorry, sweetie." She moved back to him after turning off the lights. "No sex, John. Here." She pulled off his pants. He sat to remove his shirt. Grimaced as soreness laced his back. He scrambled, leaving his boxers on as he slipped under the blankets. She slid in next to him. "Turn." He rolled onto his stomach. She touched his back. Ran her hands up to his shoulders. Began to gently work the muscles. "How's that?"

He smiled, sighed. "Good. Better. You feel so good, baby. Even if you're not naked."

She laughed. Kissed his cheek. "Hilarious, John."

He relaxed under her care. Shifted. Shifted. Laughed.

"You're not...John? Are you..." she asked, suspicious.

"Afraid so, sweetheart. I can't help the way you arouse me."

"Ignore it. Stand down, colonel. Put that thing away, would you? We need to sleep."

He laughed. "Not yet. Ah...lower. Right there, oh yes! Right there, Moira..." he growled as he hands moved to his lower back.

She sighed, but massaged. Kissed his shoulders. "There, sweetie?"

"Yes. But don't call me that. And that's not helping my other, um...situation. Just remember, Moira...it's your fault if I wake up in the middle of the night with a hard-on. The way you shove that pert little ass into me, it's like you're begging me to take you like that. Do you want me to take you like that? That pert little ass?"

"I want you to sleep, John. No sex. Not until you are better," she remonstrated.

He sighed. "Damn. Ah...that feels good."

She smiled. Her leg slid against his as she worked the muscles. "There." She kissed his shoulder. Swatted his rear.

"Hey! That's harassment, baby!"

"Yes, it is, flyboy," she agreed. She snuggled next to him, pulling the covers over them as he rolled onto his side to face her. "John...are you going to set your alarm?"

"Huh? Is that code for something kinky? Oh...you mean my watch? No." He kissed her. Hands gliding over her body.

"Stop it! You need to sleep! No? But, but you...you always..."

"Not any more, Moira. I told you." He kissed her again. "Now...how about a little midnight delight, hmm?"

"John!" She laughed, batted his hands off her. "Stop it. I guess you'll have to sleep in your own bed until you are completely healed."

"No. You have the better bed."

"Then I'll have to sleep on the floor, I guess. You, stop it!" He laughed as she caught his hands. Freed her nightshirt from them as he was shoving it past her thighs. "John, will you behave? No more sex until you are better. And we better sleep in separate beds because of your wandering hands."

He laughed. Kissed her. "Okay, doctor. If you insist. But I bet you break first. Come on to me and after me to take you."

She laughed, snuggled against him. "Oh, really? I bet you do, John. I bet you come on to me and after me to let you take me."

"No. I can make you come with a look, remember?"

"But I have the better bed. And the pert little ass."

He laughed. "True. Damn. Still...you'll invite me before I invite you."

"No way, flyboy. You'll cave first. You'll see."


End file.
